


Taking the Feisty One

by moonlit_wings



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Near Death Experiences, Political Alliances, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Social revolution, Sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 58,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlit_wings/pseuds/moonlit_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crown Princess Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom is kidnapped to the Dark Forest after being exposed to a love potion by her ex-fiancé. When she falls in love with the Bog King, and they learn how much they have in common, it becomes hard to tell which feelings are caused by the potion and which are true affection. Meanwhile, her little sister Dawn has to deal with becoming the protective sister, learning her best friend Sunny wants to be more than friends and is willing to go to extreme lengths to make it happen, and handling her own conflicted feelings for Sunny while working with him to rescue Marianne. Oh, and then there’s the little matter of international border treaty violations and a possible war …</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> I started posting this on Fanfiction.net a while ago, then discovered this website. Since there seem to be more Strange Magic fans here than there (although there is some overlap), I am replicating my story on this site; because unlike the marketing team assigned to the movie, I care about making my work available and known to a receptive audience. The version on ff.n is several chapters ahead. Chapters will be updated once a week until I run through my buffer, then updated as written. (I have written the first ten chapters at the time of original publication.)

"Argh!" Dancing with Roland apparently wasn't bad enough – now something was stinging Marianne's eyes. She covered them with her hands, trying to rub the dust out, coughing as whatever it was got into her mouth and nose.

"Marianne? Look at me, darlin'."

She deliberately turned her back to him and flared out her wings to create a symbolic wall. He could take his fake concern and shove it. Once she could see again, she might just punch him to prove her point.

Then the music changed and she was shoved into a sack.

"What?"

Marianne tried to get to her sword, but the bag wasn't big enough to move much and she couldn't get any leverage.

"Oomph!"

She lost what balance she still had as the sack was lifted into the air. If she could just get to her sword, she could cut herself free and fly away …

It was starting to get hard to think. She hated being caught in small spaces. When a fairy had crashed into plants as often as she used to, they either got used to it or hated it more than ever. Marianne squirmed and thrashed and tried to flare her wings (bad idea) and struggled to draw her sword.

"This one's feisty," she heard someone say. The voice was close; they were right outside the sack. "Should we grab the smaller one?"

Marianne went still. Whatever was about to happen, she would probably have a better chance of escape than another fairy or elf.

"Nah, she's quieting down. Probably fainted."

The two voices laughed. Marianne snarled in their general direction.

" _Where's my potion_?"

The song changed. She had no idea what had happened to Sunny. Someone else was singing now.

"I've been mistreated. I've been abused. I've been trespassed, and invaded – and I am not amused! I've been insulted – disrespected! I've been mistreated!"

The bag was being carried away. Marianne kept a tight grip on her sword hilt. Wherever they were taking her, whatever opened the bag was going to be in for a nasty surprise.

* * *

"Release my daughter!" King Dagda shouted at the goblins. The Bog King sneered and landed in front of his fellow monarch.

"Return the love potion by moon-down, or you'll never see your daughter again."

The Fairy King would have called for his guards, but a quick glance around the festival showed that they were all being held down. He tried to reason with Bog instead.

"No one has a love potion. There haven't been any since you imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy."

"Really? Then I suppose I and my guards and Sugar Plum herself all just imagined an elf breaking into my castle earlier today."

"No one from my kingdom would –"

"Take me instead!" cried Sunny. "It was me – I took the love potion!"

The Bog King loomed menacingly over the elf in question.

"Then give it back."

"I … I don't have it."

With a snort of contempt, the Bog King rose into the air.

"You heard my terms! By moon-down! _Or all of you will be next_!" The goblins who had taken over the stage played power chords to his exit. "I've been insulted! Disrespected! I've been mistreated!"

The goblins left.

"No need to worry!" a voice announced from the back of the crowd. Roland emerged from behind a leaf. "I will rescue the princess! I was – I was just fighting a dozen goblins."

"Roland!" King Dagda was relieved to hear at least one of his knights was able to hold his own. "Yes. What do you need?"

"I need an army. And, weapons. Maybe a trebuchet. And a cannon. And –"

"I'll rescue her," Sunny insisted. "This is my fault and I have to fix it."

"You've done quite enough!" Dagda snapped. He considered himself a patient and even-tempered fairy, but with his daughter in danger his temper was short. Any parent would be the same.

"You nearly got everyone killed!" another elf agreed.

"What did you even want a love potion for?" Dawn asked.

Sunny mumbled something no one could catch. Then, more loudly, "… For you."

"Why would I want – ?" Dawn gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, her wings snapping open. "You were going to use a love potion on me? Sunny, how could you?" Her hands dropped to her sides and clenched into fists. "I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend!" he insisted. "I just – I wanted to be more."

"And you couldn't have, I don't know, told me how you feel? You had to go behind my back and find a magic way to _make_ me love you?"

This was very concerning and ordinarily King Dagda would be giving it his full attention, but right now – agonizing though it was – he had to prioritize one of his girls over the other. Dawn was hurt emotionally, but Marianne was in imminent physical danger.

"You'll have all the resources you need," he told the knight who had nearly become his son-in-law … and still might. King Dagda turned to the other guards. "Rally all knights of the realm. Send out a call for volunteers. We march on the Dark Forest."


	2. Love-Dust

"If you don't have the potion, where is it now?"

"An imp stole it."

"… I have an idea."

Those words, coming from Dawn, shocked everyone into falling silent to stare at her. She cleared her throat and roughly brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Sunny and I will go to the Dark Forest, find the imp, get the potion back, and trade it for Marianne. If we can't find the imp, we'll find the Sugar Plum Fairy, get another potion, trade _that_ for Marianne, and then we'll all escape together."

"But that's too dangerous!" protested the king.

"Sunny did it once already," Dawn pointed out. She scooped up the elf and buzzed her wings, lifting them both off the ground. "Don't worry, Dad. Marianne is tough. She might have rescued herself already by the time we get there."

"Dawn, as your father and your king, I forbid – "

She was already gone.

"Well," said Roland. "Looks like I need to rescue two princesses."

Dawn was barely out of sight before she had to land. Adrenalin had helped, but she really wasn't strong enough to carry an elf too far.

"Dawn, listen," said Sunny, "I know what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry – "

"Don't. I'm still mad at you. We'll deal with this after we get my sister back. Come on. Let's find that imp."

* * *

"No eating! Bring the prisoner forward."

Marianne was dumped unceremoniously out of the sack. Still half-blinded, she immediately flared her wings, drew her sword, lunged forward with a battle-cry … and the blade was blocked by a staff, wielded by the most impressive and charismatic figure she had ever laid eyes on.

She blinked a few times, clearing her vision.

He was still there.

She dropped her weapon.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch …" A soft smile spread across her face. "You know that I love you …"

"What?"

"I can't help myself! I love you – and nobody else!"

"But I'm evil," he sang back at her. "My middle name is Misery." He pointed his staff at her in warning. "Yes, I'm evil … so don't you mess around with me."

_"Sugar pie, honey bunch! You know that I love you! I can't help myself – I love you, and nobody else!"_

As one, the goblins covered their ears as the fairy princess sang her love for their king.

"Stop that!" he yelled at her, cringing from the volume.

The singing stopped. Bog King sighed with relief. Then he opened his eyes and saw the fairy princess almost nose-to-nose with him.

If anyone had ever dared mention it again, he would have denied flinching.

She took his hand. "Please … tell me your name? Mine's Marianne."

"I am the Bog King." He straightened to his full height. She fluttered her wings to stay at eye level. He turned away, pulling his hand from hers.

The mad fairy launched into the air, and she circled the chandelier at blurring speed, singing again.

"Every time I see your face, I get all choked up inside. When I hear your name, ooh, it starts a flame! Burning in my heart – tearing it apart – No matter how I try, my love I cannot hide! Cause sugar pie, honey bunch – "

"The potion," Bog groaned, realization finally striking him. "Well, it's working now." He winced when she hit a high note. "Take her to the dungeons! Now!"

"Kinky." She dove behind him. Her voice dropped to a whisper in his ear. "I like that." Delicate fingers started walking up his back before his guards – finally – seized her. Bog shuddered.

"And be careful!" he ordered. "She's still our bait."

It was, of course, too much to hope for that his mother had not heard the commotion.

"Oh, I can't resist pretty singing!" Griselda announced, coming in shortly after the guards had left. "Do I hear wedding bells?"

"Ugh. She's crazy."

"She certainly sounded crazy – in love with you! Where is she now?"

"On her way to the dungeon; where else?"

Griselda sighed and shook her head.

"You know you're never going to find a nice girl if you keep pushing them away. But I'm not giving up! If I have to look under every rock, I won't let you die sad and alone."

* * *

The imp wasn't hard to track. All they had to do was follow the trail of love-struck couples. The singing was a good giveaway.

"Wise man say, only fools rush in … But I can't help falling in love with you …"

"How fast is this little guy?" Dawn wondered when they passed the fifth pair.

"Um … really fast? I could barely keep up when he was leading me to … you know."

They had doubled back to the dragonfly stables before leaving the elf village, so Sunny and Dawn could both stay in the air.

"I see him!" Sunny pointed almost directly below. The imp was sitting on a tree root, looking fondly at the turtle and mouse that were nuzzling each other.

Dawn dive-bombed and narrowly missed her target. The imp chattered at her – it sounded like it was laughing, and probably was – and bounced gleefully away.

"Dawn, are you okay?"

"Get the potion!"

"Right, on it." He buzzed away while Dawn untangled herself from the thicket of grass she'd crashed into, but came back at double-speed with a lizard chasing him. "Aaah!"

Dawn took off in haste. She flew backwards to see how close the lizard was, and crashed into Sunny, knocking him off his dragonfly.

"Sunny!"

"AAAH!"

She caught him, barely, but the dragonfly had flown away in panic and the lizard was closing in. It had a blueberry stain around its eye.

Those eyes were washed over with pink sparkles.

The lizard stopped charging and … wagged its tail? The hungry snarl of its mouth softened into a reasonable facsimile of a smile. It rubbed the side of its head against Dawn and Sunny, pushing the fairy out of the air and causing them to drape over its snout.

The imp jauntily saluted them and bounded away again.

"Uh … good lizard?" Sunny scratched the scales on its nose. Its tongue came out and gave him an affectionate lick.

So now a lizard was in love with them … apparently both of them.

Actually, that could be helpful.

Lizards were about the same size as squirrels, and they already knew it was fast, and very few things were bold enough to attack one …

"Sunny? I think we've found you a new ride."

* * *

"Sire, news from the mushrooms! Features of porridge are being obstructed."

That made absolutely no sense. This was the second time his sentries' message had been garbled to have something to do with food. Maybe Bog needed to review food distribution throughout his kingdom.

"I don't have time to deal with this right now," he groaned. He needed to have a plan ready in case the fairies refused to comply and return the potion.

"Yes, sire. Carry on."

Bog certainly didn't plan to keep the insane princess in his dungeon forever, but he could hardly just let her go – and with the potion warping her mind, she might refuse to leave – but on the other hand, he wasn't about to execute foreign royalty. He ate meat as readily as the next goblin, but being an omnivore didn't make him a murderer.

Okay, so he had ordered the elf to be killed if it got into the castle earlier, but considering the tense relationship between the kingdoms and how elusive the elf had been, there had been legitimate reason to be concerned it might have been an assassin. If he'd known the elf was after love potion he would have just ordered the blasted creature captured, the primrose petal taken and destroyed, a guard posted at Sugar Plum's cell just in case, and the elf forcibly escorted back to the border.

Now he had this mess to deal with. He needed a solution that reminded the Fairy Kingdom – and his own kingdom – that he was taking this seriously, but without pushing the situation over the edge and causing all-out war. War would cause even more chaos than rampant overuse of love potions. Families would be torn apart, there wouldn't be enough resources to go around, and both kingdoms would be in ruins by the time that fighting exhausted them enough to force negotiations.

Bog rubbed his eyes. He wasn't tired; he was nocturnal, like most goblins. But he was stressed and starting to get a headache.

He knew what he couldn't do. He couldn't let the prisoner go, he couldn't execute her, and he couldn't keep her indefinitely. He couldn't change his demands, or the love potion would still be out there somewhere, and Bog himself would be seen as weak.

Right now, all he could do was sit and wait for the fairies to make the next move.

Well, there was one thing he could do …

"Bring me Sugar Plum," he ordered his nearest guard. The drowsy goblin snapped to attention and ran off.

* * *

Griselda and Marianne sat on opposite sides of the barred door. Marianne was perched daintily on the edge of the cell's toadstool bed. Griselda had brought down a few cozy moss cushions from her room and piled them up next to the wall. The guards had been uncertain about it, but hadn't wanted to actually go ask the king if his mother was allowed to talk to the hostage.

"I know he's busy with all the duties of being king, but when he has the time, what does Bog do for fun?"

"Sparring, mostly." Griselda had taken note of the empty scabbard at Marianne's side and the sword on the floor of the throne room. "Swamp diving, chasing minnows. Chasing fireflies."

"That does sound fun. Except for the underwater part."

As his mother, Griselda was eager for Bog to find someone to love. If the fairy was already infatuated, Griselda wanted to get to know her a little more, to see if Marianne was Bog's type. She hadn't had much luck introducing him to girls from around their own kingdom.

"What about the rest of your family?" asked Marianne. "What do you do together?"

"Oh, it's just the two of us. My boy's an only child."

"No sisters or brothers? Wow. I can't imagine growing up without my sister Dawn."

"What's she like?"

"Sweet. Full of energy. Always looks on the bright side. Really hard to get angry at but really easy to get annoyed with."

* * *

Dawn chased the imp right into the lizard's mouth.

"Good girl, Lizzie!" Sunny congratulated the beast on its catch.

"Give me the potion," Dawn ordered the imp. It squeaked at her. "Well, take your time; think it over. We can always just wait at the _other_ end of the lizard." It handed the potion over. "Thank you. Lizzie, spit!"

The soggy imp watched them go with a mournful expression. Sunny glanced back and took pity on it.

"C'mon, little guy."

It hopped up on Lizzie's back and snuggled up to Sunny.

"He's kind of cute when he's not causing havoc," Dawn admitted. "And it is probably better to have him where we can keep an eye on him."

There was a long journey ahead to reach the Dark Palace. The moon was still in the sky, but it was setting.

Dawn glanced sideways at Sunny. Conflicted feelings welled up, like they had all night.

"Listen … I care about you," she told him. "A lot. And, maybe it could have been … or still could be … you know … love. Someday. Maybe. But … Sunny, after hearing what you were planning to do … I just don't know if I can trust you anymore."

Dawn held the potion bottle in her hands up to the light for a moment, watching the liquid slosh inside.

"I want to. You've been my best friend for years and you're sweet and you make me laugh and you've always seemed like you supported me whenever I had a crush on someone else … but … This changes a lot, learning how you feel about me. I don't know if I want to … be with you, but, with how you feel and what you were willing to do, I don't know if we can just be friends anymore either. And I don't want to lose you, but I don't think … I don't know. There's not really a way to resolve this that works for both of us."

"I understand." Sunny hung his head. "But … do you think you could forgive me? Someday?"

"I _want_ to. But I don't _know_ yet."

* * *

"Ooh, this is exciting. I haven't had so many people to talk to in a long time."

Bog had no interest in Sugar Plum's chatter.

"Give me the antidote for the love potion."

"I thought you said it didn't work."

He would not admit he was wrong.

"Give me the antidote!"

"Hmm … well, I'll think about it … If you let me talk about that fateful – "

"NO!"

"Then no."

Well, that was pointless. He wasn't going to get drawn into endless rounds of yes-no-yes-no.

"Take her back to her cell."

* * *

With every question Marianne answered, every scrap of information she volunteered, Griselda grew more convinced that this witty, charming, unpretentious, strong-minded, scrupulous, clever, fiery girl would be an absolutely fantastic match for Bog. On a less personal note, it would be politically irresponsible to ignore the possibility of an alliance with their immediate neighbours. Even if this princess hadn't been the heir, an alliance cemented with a marriage between the royal families would be a boon to the stability of both kingdoms.

If the Bog King just happened to fall in love with the future Fairy Queen, and she just happened to love him back …

Well, Griselda could imagine worse matches for her not-so-little boy. Now she just had to figure out a way to get him to see it.

Even the guards were starting to warm up to her, after Marianne decided to include them in the conversation and gave every indication of genuinely wanting to hear their opinions.

"Letting the citizens select some of the royal counsellors does sound like a good way to make sure their voices are heard at court," the fairy princess conceded, "but is a vote really the best way to do it? If they're choosing between three counsellors or more, the one with the most votes might still have had more than half the citizens voting against them."

"That's why there should be a secondary council, with the unelected candidates in it, who the citizens can go to if they want to make a petition but can't come to open court."

Griselda was also revising her opinions of Brutus. She'd never known he had so many ideas about politics.

"I'll leave you to your talk. I have a few things I need to go set up."

"Bye, Griselda!" Marianne waved, then turned to the other guard. "So, Othello, how do you think the candidates should be selected? What sort of qualifications or characteristics should they have?"


	3. Sparring

She slammed the bottle down on the arm of the throne.

"Here's your precious love potion." Sneering didn't actually work for Dawn, but she gave it her best shot. "Now give me my sister back."

"Argh, no; not another princess! Well, you're welcome to take her." The Bog King was much better at sneering. "Follow me. I hope you've got a strong stomach."

Actually her insides felt like they were trying to crawl out. There was a soft clang. Dawn gasped, realizing her foot had kicked against her sister's sword. She and Sunny exchanged worried looks. Dawn snatched up the blade and took it with them.

_Please be okay, Marianne._

The dungeons were exactly the way Sunny had described it to her on the way to the castle – dark and gloomy, with spiked black metal cages hanging by chains from the ceiling, and mold and fungus growing here and there.

Dawn hadn't expected to see Marianne having a pleasant chat with the guards, bars between them notwithstanding. She couldn't hear what was being said, but Marianne glanced up at the staircase and beamed. The goblins turned to see what she was looking at and hastily stood at attention.

"Dawn! Sunny! You're here! Bog, did you invite them? You are just the sweetest! Isn't he great?" she asked the guards.

"Oh, yeah!"

"Great!"

"Fantastic!"

"Best king we've ever had!"

"And wise and compassionate and … forgiving?" The nearer of the two guards cringed back when the Bog King got close enough to hit him with his staff. He didn't, but he could.

Marianne fluttered off a toadstool and took her sister's hand through the bars. Dawn offered the sword and Marianne took it, and then sheathed the blade instead of threatening her kidnapper with it. "Thanks. Listen, Dawn, I know you and Dad have been worried about me – the whole 'swearing off love' thing – but you don't have to worry anymore." She looked to Bog King with a besotted expression and sighed. Dawn hadn't seen her sister smile like that since … since before the wedding had been called off.

"Please don't sing!" The Bog King hastily stepped back and held up his hands defensively. "Open the cell," he added to the guards. "She's leaving."

"Leaving? I don't want to leave." The portcullis was up, but Marianne wasn't moving.

"Uh, Marianne?" Dawn waved a hand in front of Marianne's eyes. "We're in the _Dark Forest_ , remember? You got kidnapped?"

"But that's why this is such a great opportunity! Bog and I are finally in the same place and now we can _talk_ to each other, royal to royal, about reopening the borders and setting up trade arrangements between the kingdoms, so it'll go more smoothly when we start integrating our governments. Why are you acting like this is a bad thing?"

"Integrating the –? It _is_ bad! You got kidnapped! They attacked the festival!"

"Was anybody hurt?" If Dawn were a better liar, she might have taken advantage of Marianne's concern to claim ' _yes_ '.

"Well, no, but –"

"And Bog, you're sorry about that, right?"

"Sorrier every minute," he grumbled.

"Then it's all okay. See, this is why I need to be here, so we can work things out and make sure these misunderstandings don't happen in the future."

" _Misunderstanding_?! Like how whatever happened with _Roland_ was a _misunderstanding_?!"

Dawn clapped her hands over her mouth like she could trap the words she'd just said before Marianne could hear them. Marianne tensed and paled.

"That. Was. Different." She pulled Dawn into the cell with her. "Would you boys please excuse us for a moment? I need a private word with my sister." She shut the cell doors, leaving Sunny and the goblins on the other side.

"Marianne, I'm sorry –"

"I know, Dawn. I just – I'd like to be able to go _one day_ without hearing someone taking his side over mine."

"Well maybe if you'd explain what happened –?"

"He cheated on me! I went to give him the boutonniere for our wedding and I saw them kissing – right out in the open! He wasn't even _ashamed_ of it! He's only sorry he got _caught_!" Marianne punched the wall, hard enough to leave a scuff in the wood. Then, abruptly, she relaxed. "It's not important anymore. I have Bog now."

" _He kidnapped you_."

"Okay, so we met under bad circumstances, and then I totally embarrassed both of us with this ridiculously cutesy song, but we can make it work. His mom likes me already, and even if Dad isn't just happy to see me happy again, I'm sure he'll come around once he sees how this can benefit our people."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Dawn …" Marianne hugged her. Dawn hugged back. "I know you're upset, and I think I know why. It's really sweet of you to worry. But you don't have to be scared. This isn't going to change anything between you and me, okay? You're my sister and I love you and you will always be one of the most important people in the world to me."

"I love you, too. That's not why I'm worried." Dawn took a deep breath. Her ears drooped. "You got hit with a love potion. That's why you … think you feel this way about the Bog King."

"That's ridiculous. Bog doesn't need a potion to be attractive. Have you ever met anyone who radiates charisma like he does?"

"No," said Dawn, with complete truthfulness. "But he wasn't the one who …" No. No good would come from finishing that sentence. Dawn needed to sort out whether her anger at Sunny really did override how much she cared for him _before_ condemning him to the wrath of Marianne. "You're not acting like _you_ right now. You're so … you're too …"

"Happy?"

Dawn cringed, ears and wings down like a wilted flower.

"Yes."

"You're saying you don't want me to be happy?"

"No! I want you to be happy! Just … not with _him_."

Marianne ended the hug and held her sister at arm's length. Her eyes narrowed.

"That's what this is about. You want Bog for yourself."

* * *

Sunny folded his arms behind his back, bit his lip, and rocked back and forth, trying not to look anywhere in particular and not think about how he was alone with three goblins, any one of which looked more than capable of squashing him.

They all jumped at an indignant shriek – " _WHAT_?" – from inside the cell.

"Uh, BK?" The bigger guard hunched in on himself. "Should we open the door? Or … barricade it?"

It slammed open before the Bog King could answer. Marianne stormed out, Dawn following and frantic.

"That is _not_ – why would you even _think_ – why would _I_ even _want_ – Marianne, please!"

"Dawn, I adore you, but I am very upset with you right now, and if you're going to be unreasonable and unsupportive then maybe it would be better if you just went home so we could both calm down."

"I'm not leaving you here!"

"Well _I'm_ not leaving!"

"I am _not_ trying to steal Bog from you! No offense," Dawn said quickly to the goblin king before rounding on her sister again. "How do you even know Bog likes you? What if he _doesn't_ like you _that way_? What if he _already has a girlfriend_?"

Marianne and the Bog King both looked as though Dawn had slapped them; more shocked that she had done it than hurt.

"He doesn't. Not for lack of trying on my part, I assure you."

"AH!" If anything else surprising happened, Sunny was going to save everyone the trouble of killing him and have a heart attack. Where had this fourth goblin come from? And … was that a dress it (she?) was wearing?

"Mother, this is not the best time," Bog King groaned.

"And if you wait for the best time, soon there's not going to be any time. So, on that note, I've arranged a little something upstairs to keep you and Marianne occupied while – what's your name, dear?"

"Um, Dawn? And this is Sunny."

"While Dawn, Sunny and I talk to Sugar Plum."

"Mum –"

"There's snacks! Othello, make yourself useful," she added to the shorter guard. "Carry Sugar Plum up to the antechamber off the great hall for us. It's drafty down here."

"Mum, this is _not_ –"

"Do this for me and I won't bring up your love-life for a month."

The sound of a goblin grinding his teeth together reminded Sunny of a rockslide.

"… _Fine_." The Bog King slammed the end of his staff – scepter? club? – to the ground and his guards snapped to attention again. "Othello, do as she says. Brutus, you can return to your regular duties."

"Bye, guys!" Marianne hooked one arm through Bog's and gave a little wave. She was all smiles once more. "Dawn, I think you and Griselda are really going to like each other."

* * *

Unseen by anyone, the imp snuck down the halls of the Dark Castle. It clung to the walls, and darted up to the ceiling to avoid a patrol of guards. Sniffing the air, it tracked the love potion to the throne room and triumphantly reclaimed it.

The imp grinned, shaking the bottle coiled in its tail, and left through the same open knothole that Dawn and Sunny had entered by. They hadn't wanted to chance being stopped on their way in if they tried the main entrance. With a joyous squeal, the imp bounded away from the castle, catching itself on a root before it could fall into the chasm that surrounded the castle like a moat. It hopped from root to root down to the ground, scampered across the dirt and pebbles, and climbed the outer chasm wall.

It turned back to the castle for a moment and stuck out its tongue, open hands wriggling beside its head, shaking the potion bottle again. Then it darted off, and was soon lost from sight in the underbrush.

Lizzie the lizard, resting under an arched tree root nearby, watched it and idly considered catching it again, but settled back down to await the return of her beloved elf and fairy.

* * *

"It's just down this hall."

"Question," Sunny asked Griselda. "If you _want_ Marianne and the Bog King to be … together, why are you helping us get an antidote?"

"I'm hoping she'll stick around. Besides, my boy deserves better than a spell."

"That's a good way to look at it, _isn't it, Sunny_?" Dawn's eyes speared him right through the heart. He gulped. Griselda looked sideways at the pair of them, but said nothing.

* * *

"I've got a feeling … that tonight's gonna be a good night … Tonight's gonna be a good, good –"

"Get out!"

"Night … yeah." Stuff and Thang fled.

"Nailed it! You sing pretty good."

"You should see me dance."

"I'd love to!"

"Bog, I swear, I did not put your mother up to this." Marianne gawped at the cutesy decorations and searched for a way to describe the twisting feeling it caused in her gut without actually insulting her future mother-in-law. "It's … clear that she's … trying to be supportive? But all – _this – really_ , isn't my kind of … anything."

She lightly tugged the dangling heart decoration that hung between them. Its anchor tore free. Without the ribbon holding them together, the double-arched entryway snapped back into straight pillars.

"Well, there's a small mercy." Bog started pulling down the paper chains. The sound of ripping paper was amazingly satisfying.

"Really," she mused, tracing the heart's outline with a fingertip, "I'm more comfortable in a sword-fight than a dance." Marianne walked over to the table. With a casual flick of her wrist, she threw the paper heart away. She picked up a knife and tossed it in the same direction, pinning the heart to the topiary and unbalancing the shrub.

"Good aim." Bog threw the other knife, tearing several dangling hearts in sequence and pinning them to a wall.

"You, too." She drew her sword to cut down the balloon net.

"Who even likes this stuff?" He gathered up the torn paper chains and threw them into the fire.

"Not me. I mean, it's ridiculous." She stomped on one of the heart balloons, forcing the air out with an indecent sound that made them both chuckle.

As one, they turned to knock down the giant heart that read 'lofe'. His staff and her sword clashed against one another.

Their eyes met. The 'lofe' heart fell with a _whumph_. Neither of them noticed.

"So … how well can a pretty fairy princess actually fight?"

"Flirt."

And the fight was on.

* * *

"You!" Sugar Plum's eyes narrowed at Sunny. She folded her arms and turned her back. "I'm not talking to you."

"That's fine; you can talk to me instead." Dawn moved to the other side of the cobweb orb so the two fairies were facing each other. "My sister got hit with the love potion by mistake and now she's in love with the Bog King and our kingdom needs her back so Sunny and I came to rescue her but she doesn't want to leave and if we don't get her home soon then our dad's probably going to send an army after us and so we were hoping that you could maybe make us an antidote."

For the first time since Sunny had met her – which admittedly had only been earlier that day – Sugar Plum was speechless.

"Please," said Dawn more softly. "I love my sister. I know her better than anyone. She's not herself right now. I need her back."

* * *

"Look at you." A fairy trying to be fierce was actually sort of cute, and not in a way that made Bog want to gag. "You fight well, for a fairy."

"I wish I could say the same for you."

She kicked him and knocked him back against a chair. He stayed on his feet. The chair did not.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Marianne blocked his strike.

"I dunno … I was expecting – _more_?"

"Sire – news from the mushrooms!"

"Not now, Thang!"

"No, you can take this." Marianne's voice was teasing. "I can wait."

"Need any help, sire?"

"No."

"Just tell him the message." Marianne thrust her sword towards his abdomen. Bog stepped back and half-turned.

"An arm skis on roaches!"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" She swung at his side. He blocked her, and knocked her weapon away with a twirl of his staff.

"I have no idea." Bog shook his head and tried to trip her up. She hoped lightly into the air, dove to the side, and retrieved her sword. "Not bad."

"Need any help –?"

"No!"

Thang left. Marianne fluttered into the air, probably intending to attack from above. Bog flew after her.

Ariel combat quickly devolved into chasing each other around the ceiling. After a few circuits, both had to land, breathing heavily. She was grinning. He was pretty sure he was grinning back.

"So, had enough yet?" she challenged.

"I could do this all day."

She tried to raise her sword again, and he tried to ready a block.

That was when her sister walked in.


	4. Exploring

"So, the interrogation isn't going so well, so – ohmygosh, what happened?" Dawn clapped her hands in front of her chin, as though torn between applause and prayer. "Did it wear off?"

"No … Nothing's wrong," Bog King panted. "Just … sparring."

They both dropped their weapons and put their hands on their knees, leaning forward and not-quite shaking from the adrenalin that hadn't died down yet. Dawn righted one of the chairs and helped her sister into it.

"I'm … fine, Dawn," insisted Marianne. "And I'm not … under … a spell. Bog's … just so great. I've never … been challenged … like this before."

Bog sparred with his guards all the time, but he'd never had a challenge like this either – the challenge of going up against another flyer. Fighting someone while they rode a dragonfly didn't count.

"You know, I'm starting to realize why you get so annoyed at me all the time. You're so focused on this guy that you have no idea what's really going on. I owe you such an apology when you snap out of this." Dawn neatened her sister's hair a bit, shook her head and left, then apparently remembered she hadn't delivered the full message and stuck her head back in. "Anyway, Griselda suggested you two might want to stretch your wings, because Sugar Plum doesn't sound like she'll be giving us the antidote anytime soon."

Bog retrieved his staff from the floor and brushed a bit of dirt from the amber. Marianne stood as well, and he handed back her sword.

"Here."

"Thank you."

Her hand lingered on his for a moment before she sheathed her sword again.

"Shall we?" She gestured towards the entrance. Her wings opened and moonlight shone through the purple membrane.

Bog cleared his throat and accompanied her outside. After the intensity of their spar, a slow flight would be nice way to relax.

"Wow. This is an … imposing entrance."

Distracted by looking at the skull bridge, Marianne bumped into Julius, Brutus' brother. He bared his fangs at the fairy.

"Nice goblin," she squeaked, half-hiding behind Bog. It was odd to see her timid. "Um – maybe we should head back?"

No. Bog wanted to see what the confident young woman he'd just been sparring with would think of his kingdom.

"Why? The moonlight is … perfect, right now." He flew to a patch of Venus Fly Traps and demonstrated how to turn them into a bridge. "Come on, Tough Girl. Try thinking of this as an adventure."

After a few hesitant steps, she was laughing and tumbling. He smiled and caught her hand when she bumped into him.

* * *

"Okay, they're gone. Now tell us the antidote."

"It's a riddle!" Sugar Plum giggled. "Listen carefully. The antidote is the one thing more powerful than the potion."

She couldn't have just said that while Bog King was still in the castle?

"More powerful than a love potion," Dawn repeated. "More powerful … well, we already know it's not a lizard, or a bad first impression, or swearing off love. So it's probably not heartbreak either …" She sat beside Sunny. "So … what's stronger than a love potion? Something stronger than magic …"

* * *

The imp heard movement up ahead. Yay – more targets onto which it could sprinkle love dust! This was going to be so adorable and romantic!

It jumped out at the fairy army.

"Halt!"

Strong hands caught the scruff of its neck. It chattered indignantly. Someone took the potion away. It snarled at the yellow-haired fairy.

"Thank you, tiny rabbit." The imp was tossed aside and landed on a mushroom cap. Yellow-hair held up the bottle and raised his voice. "I have retrieved the love potion! The very thing we need to rescue the _beautiful princess_ , my Marianne, from the hideous goblins. March!"

The army continued towards the castle. The imp followed, hopping from mushroom to mushroom.

* * *

"It's a good thing Marianne's not here. She hates riddles."

"Yeah." Dawn was half-curled up, her wings furled around her. She wanted to smile; Sunny's comment reminded her of all the times Marianne had gotten frustrated with a riddle or puzzle when they were younger. Dawn wanted to relate to that frustration; if she got mad, at least she might not be so scared of failing to solve the riddle and losing her sister forever. She wanted to feel anything but the worry and guilt wrestling inside her right now.

She was the worst sister in the world. Not only could she not help Marianne, but trying to help Marianne basically amounted to trying to stop her from feeling happy, so whether Dawn failed or succeeded –

"Ugh! I'm bored!" Sugar Plum startled everyone into jumping. "I'll just tell you! _If_ … you set me free."

"That didn't exactly go so well last –" Dawn put a finger over Sunny's lips.

"We'll do it!"

" _I'll_ do it," Griselda corrected. "If you two do it it'll just be another political incident."

"Yay!" Sugar Plum set off fireworks inside the cobweb orb.

"If the antidote works," Griselda clarified. Sugar Plum pouted at her, but shook it off.

"I shall reveal the antidote in the form – of a story," she announced. "One fateful day, when the Bog King was young and impetuous –" She shapeshifted to look like him and took a few strutting steps "– he fell in love with a sweet young thing." She assumed the form of the goblin in question.

"Ew." Dawn's reaction was automatic and she regretted it even before Griselda frowned at her. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"So he came to me for my love potion." Sugar Plum resumed her normal form, with an illusory bottle in her hands. "I tried to tell him how it worked. But Bog? He had no patience. He dusted the eyes of the sweet, unsuspecting creature, and when she was gazing into the eyes of a lovesick Bog –" She turned into the goblin woman again, recoiled, and screamed.

"… But why?" Sunny asked.

"Because," Sugar Plum snapped, looking herself again, "she was _already_ in love with _someone else_!"

Griselda patted Sunny on the shoulder. "Teaching moment: there are no shortcuts to love." She shook her head. "Poor Bog."

"So, the antidote to love potion is, real love?" It felt odd for Dawn to be the one keeping the conversation on topic.

"Bingo!" Sugar Plum set off more fireworks. "That took forever."

"But, that won't help Marianne," Sunny pointed out. "She's not in love with anyone."

* * *

Julius stood taller when the fairies approached. He took a deep breath, ready to roar an alarm. His fellow guards tightened their grips on their weapons.

"Halt!" The fairy riding the squirrel seized a nearby white animal by the ears and waved it like a flag, then tossed it aside. "Disgusting creatures, I come in peace." He held up a pink bottle. "I must get this love potion to your Bog King, by moon-down. I will need only three men. My army will wait here."

Julius decided he would be the one to lead them inside. He was the biggest and so the least likely to be jumped from behind. He signaled this to the other guards before anyone else could volunteer, and gestured for the fairies to accompany him.

A short way down the hall, he heard whispering from behind him.

"Execute the plan on my code word – go."

He turned in time to see three of the four fairies disappear. He growled at the leader and debated just eating him and delivering the potion himself.

No, the King had ordered no eating of fairies. It had been forbidden for years already, by the previous king, and no matter how the older goblins complained and the younger ones questioned it, even after officially closing the borders, Bog would not revoke his father's decree. This was not the night to push his highness' patience.

Julius grabbed the remaining fairy's shoulder and pushed him in front. He was going to keep an eye on this one.

Maybe the 'plan' was relatively innocent. Maybe the fairies were just worried the goblins wouldn't keep their promise to release the princess and they were readying to fight their way out.

If only the fairy leader had actually reminded his soldiers of the code word, Julius could warn everyone about it. Once this fairy was delivered to the throne room and messengers were sent to find and alert the King, Julius was going to go check on his brother. Together, the two of them could probably take on the entire shiny, fluttery army by themselves.

* * *

"This has been amazing." Marianne took Bog's arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "I wanted the borders reopened so that no one would have to be scared anymore … but I never realized how much beauty there was in this place."

Bog King nodded. He loved his realm, and he was proud of it; he'd spent as much of his youth as he could get away with outside, exploring the forest, learning its secrets. Even now, he patrolled regularly, to keep it safe and to experience its wonders again and again. It made him smile to see how enchanted Marianne was everything he showed her.

The night had … not been completely unpleasant. After the initial burst of song, the fairy princess had mostly calmed down. It was a surprise, though not a bad one, that the guards assigned to her cell had been conversing with her instead of hiding from further musical torture. And it was nice that Marianne had been able to spar with him without panicking and fussing every time she landed a hit.

Bog couldn't help wondering how much of Marianne's personality and behaviour, her skill with swords for example, had been there before, and how much was induced by the potion. Maybe it had changed her, to make her more suitable for him. On the other hand, she'd been carrying the sword already …

"You know … Marianne," he said slowly. "Even if … if the antidote does … work, you would still be … welcome. To come visit this place. Whenever you liked." _Maybe once you're not deluded into thinking you love me, we can be friends._

"I don't need an antidote." She sighed. "But if it'll make you happy, I'll take it." Bog winced when she started singing again. At least she was quiet this time, and the tempo was slow, like she was trying not to fall asleep. "I'm never gonna give you up; never gonna let you down; never gonna turn around and desert you. I'm never gonna make you cry; never gonna say goodbye; never gonna tell a lie, and hurt you."

"If only." She hadn't actually been meant to hear that. He didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud until he felt a slight pull at his arm. She had slowed in flight, looking up at him with concern on her face.

"You've been hurt before." It wasn't a question. "That's why you hate the idea of a love potion so much."

"I tried to use it once," he admitted. "A long time ago. She … she was the most beautiful creature I ever saw. But even with the potion, she didn't love me."

"Oh, Bog …" Marianne looked away. She let go of his arm so she could pat his shoulder spurs.

"And even if it had worked," Bog finally admitted to himself, " _nothing_ would have been real."

"I know what that's like." What? Had she suddenly realized she was under a spell? "I … I almost married someone, who didn't love me."

_What?_

"Why?"

"I thought he did. I thought I loved him." She shook her head. "He was so good-looking, and he's a guy who seems really nice as long as he's getting what he wants. I didn't realize until it was almost too late that he was a … deceptive, conniving, two-faced, arrogant, shallow, power-hungry, cheating, condescending, rotten, unfaithful son of a –"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Bog was pretty sure the fairy version of that insult was 'son of a goblin' but he didn't want to know for sure.

"Anyway, after that, I swore I wouldn't let myself be hurt again. I'd keep my guard up and never trust anybody. And then I met you."

They were circling back to the castle. Bog froze in mid-air at the sight that met him – a crowd of fairies, an _army_ of fairies, standing before the mouth of his castle.

"No," Marianne gasped. She started speaking quickly. "Bog, I know what this must look like, but there's no way Dawn would have led an army here. You don't know her; she's the sweetest girl; she'd never do something like this."

"I wouldn't follow me, _princess_. You won't want to see what I do to them."

To Bog's surprise, Marianne got in front of him and drew her sword.

"They're _my people_. I won't let you hurt them." She held the blade steady, ready to battle a second time, with much higher stakes than the first. "At least give them a chance to explain."

Against his better judgement, Bog conceded to nod. Fighting with Marianne right now would use up energy he needed to expel the rest of the fairies from his home.

* * *

"Um, question." Dawn tapped her chin. "If the antidote to the love potion is real love … how do you tell when it's not the potion anymore, if the person who took the potion really does fall in love with person the potion made them love?"

"That's never happened," said Sugar Plum flatly. "That's why they wanted a love potion in the first place, remember?"

"Yes, but _Bog_ couldn't have known at first that Marianne was affected because he wasn't the one who gave it to her, and they've never met before tonight, so who's to say they can't fall in love? I mean, just because love is _new_ doesn't mean it isn't _real_." And then Dawn wouldn't be a terrible person for trying to break a spell that made her sister so happy.

"I wouldn't mind her as an in-law," Griselda chimed in. "We were talking earlier, and she's got a good head on her shoulders and a fire in her spirit. My boy needs someone who's not afraid to tell him when he's being ridiculous."

"You!" Bog King snarled, buzzing in and pointing his staff at Dawn. "You sent me away from my palace and now an army is at the gate!"

"I'm telling you it can't have been Dawn's fault!" Marianne insisted, grabbing the midpoint of the staff and pulling it to point away from her sister's face. There was a flower in her hair that Dawn had never seen before. "If she was going to bring an army she would have brought it with her, not had it follow. She's not sneaky enough to do that! This is not listening to an explanation! And besides, wasn't leaving your mom's idea?"

"There's an army?" Dawn asked.

"See, she didn't know!" Marianne's voice was plaintive.

Dawn hadn't known, but unlike Sugar Plum's riddle, it wasn't difficult to figure out.

"I told Dad I could handle this!" Dawn erupted. "But, of course, he didn't take me seriously. No one ever does, why should now be different?"

"Sire!" A large goblin tried to enter, but got stuck in the door. Another goblin helped pull him out. "There's an army at the gate and the general is in the throne room. He says they're here to deliver the love potion, but he also sent three soldiers off on a secret plan. We're searching for them now."

Bog growled.


	5. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like angst, feel free to pretend that the story ends after this chapter.
> 
> It does not.

He could hear voices through the door before he kicked it in. It was his door. He could kick it as much as he liked.

"What kind of odious throne is _this_?"

"Do something!"

" _You_ do something!"

_Boom._

"What do you want?" Bog snarled at the intruder who dared to sit on _his_ throne while awaiting an audience.

"On behalf of the Fairy Kingdom, I demand the release of the princess …es. Cesses. Ses."

"And who are you to make that demand?" Marianne's sister and elf friend had already brought him the potion, so they were all free to leave whenever they wished if they could convince Marianne to go; but this fairy couldn't have known that.

" _I_ ," he twisted a curl of yellow hair around his fingers, as though gesturing of insanity, "am Roland, the incredibly good-looking future King of the Fairies; Princess Marianne's fiancé."

"… What?"

"WHAT?" roared Marianne. Bog should have known she wouldn't stay behind when he'd said he would deal with this. She stormed into the room, wearing a ferocious expression that _really should not be so attractive to Bog_ , especially if she really was engaged to this other fairy. "I _left you_ at the _altar, remember_? After I caught you _cheating on me_? On our _wedding day_? _Last year_?" She twined her arm through Bog's once more and nestled into his side. "Besides, I'm already free to go. I just don't want to."

"What are you do–? Oh, that is so disgusting." The fairy man shuddered. "I mean it's interesting, but it's just disgusting. Eugh. The potion was really strong enough to make you fall for _that_? And to … make you forget about how you and I made up?"

"Roland, you are such a –"

" _Hero_ , for rescuing you from this foul creature. Who know it might have done to you if I hadn't shown up when I did?"

" _Liar_! Bog is ten times the man you'll ever be. And even if I had never met him, there's no magic in the world strong enough to make me take _you_ back."

Bog looked between Marianne and the intruder. He wasn't entirely sure which one of the pair he believed, since he had already seen ample evidence that the love potion warped the mind of its victim. But there was something he felt compelled to confirm, no matter how obvious it was.

" _That's_ … _the guy_?"

"Oh, right, introductions. Bog, that piece of pond scum is Roland. Roland, this is His Royal Majesty the Bog King, sovereign ruler of the goblins, lord of the Dark Forest – my Boggy-woggy-kingy-wingy-boggy-bear. _Mwah_!" She fluttered for a moment, to compensate for their difference in height, and kissed Bog's cheek.

Roland retched.

Bog profoundly hoped that the cutesy new nickname had been solely bestowed upon him to annoy her ex, (and that the other guy really was her ex, because otherwise things were going to be even _more_ awkward once the spell broke,) not because Marianne was actually going to call him that on a regular basis.

Or maybe it was because the potion's effect was getting stronger. There was a scary thought. Or maybe the potion was _weakening_ and this was Marianne's real personality coming back into focus. Which was technically good, but Bog would miss the banter and the sparring and the general lack of tooth-aching cutesiness.

Though, the casual affection and easy intimacy of her kiss on his cheek _was_ sort of nice … He hoped she hadn't cut her lip on his barbs …

Roland had kept down his bile. Good; Bog didn't want vomit on his castle floors. Roland stood and reached out his hand to Marianne. The other hand casually slipped the bottle of love potion behind his back. Bog's eyes narrowed.

"Ugh! I wish I didn't see that. Marianne … You're not thinkin' clearly right now, Buttercup. Come on back home with me, and I'll help you get over these … unnatural, unhealthy feelings."

Marianne took a half-step away from Bog, just enough to have room to draw her sword. She pointed it at Roland. He raised his hands above his head.

"Whoa! Easy, darlin'. You know you shouldn't be swinging those things around."

"Get out."

"That's your gratitude? After I come all this way to save you, this is the thanks I get? C'mon, Marianne." He pouted at her. "Your kingdom wants you back. _I_ want you back. Please."

His hands were inching towards each other, to uncap the bottle he still held and pour the potion onto Marianne. Bog saw the movement, guessed his plan, and struck, hooking his staff under Roland's leg and yanking forward to knock the fairy back and off-balance.

But one sparring match against Marianne wasn't enough to get Bog used to fighting other people with wings. Roland caught himself and lifted off the ground.

He feinted to the side, and when Marianne and Bog both turned to keep their weapons pointed at him, Roland darted the other way. He got behind Marianne, seizing her around the middle with one of her arms pinned to her side and holding her own sword to her throat.

"Ah!"

"Marianne!" Bog's shoulder spurs flared up. " _Let her go_."

Roland held her like a shield between himself and Bog. Marianne tried to elbow Roland's ribs with her unpinned arm, but his armour got in the way. Her hand was crushed under his on the sword hilt, so she couldn't just backhand his face or punch him in the crotch. Her wings were trapped between them.

"Let _go_ of me!"

She threw her head back, trying to head-butt Roland in the nose, but his head was beside hers instead of behind.

"It's alright, Buttercup," he said in her ear. "Your knight in shining armour is gonna get you far away from this … beast."

" _Who's_ the beast?" she growled back.

Roland took off for the skylight. Bog couldn't see any way to attack that wouldn't end with Marianne far more badly injured than Roland. He buzzed after them. If he could get above the fairies, block the exit –

Marianne tried to kick Roland in the shins, but his armour protected him again. She did manage to knock him off course and into the wall a couple of times.

"Ow! Stop that. _Ow!_ Darlin' – you _will_ – marry me!"

Then, in a moment of unpredictable and unmatchable stupidity, Roland let go of the sword to try and open the potion bottle.

Marianne's wild strike barely nicked his ear, but he yelped and released her. She got her wings open before she could fall. Bog flew to Marianne's side. She looked unharmed, but she was breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?"

She still had that glorious fire in her eyes. "Oh, I will be."

They both turned their weapons on Roland again.

"I'll have your head on a _stick_ ," Marianne snarled at her former fiancé.

"Let's … let's not do anythin' rash …" His eyes darted between Marianne, Bog, and the sky. "I can see I've outstayed my welcome … So, sadly, it looks like it's time for me to – GO!"

There was a horrible, cracking, crunching sound. Roland exited by smashing through the skylight. Bog and Marianne dodged the broken glass. They would have chased after him if the castle hadn't started falling down around them. For one terrible moment, fairy princess and goblin king were both frozen in mid-air, gaping at each other and the growing destruction. What was happening? This could not be happening. But it was.

And that meant that each of them had a loved one trapped in the thick of it.

"Mum!"

"Dawn!"

It was chaos in seconds. Huge chunks of wood and stone were falling from the sky; the air was filled with dust; goblins were shouting as they ran away.

"There!" Marianne spotted a bright flash that might be – _had_ to be – her sister's wings.

Griselda's voice cut through the din.

"My life is flashing before my eyes! Hey, I used to be hot."

Sunny and Dawn were trying to lift what had been part of the ceiling and was now pinning Griselda's legs. With Bog and Marianne's help, sword and staff acting as levers, they flung it away.

"I've got her." Marianne sheathed her blade, picked up the small goblin woman and turned to Bog. "Make sure everyone else got out." He nodded.

If anyone had been looking at Marianne's eyes when Bog flew away, while she turned in the other direction to work out the best escape route, that person would have seen pink sparkles fall away and dissolve into nothing, as she chose an act of love over an act of romance.

Sunny pulled Sugar Plum out of her cobweb-orb prison again and she thanked him by carrying him to safety. Dawn was close behind them, Marianne guarding her sister's back and calling out a warning if anything was about to fall on her. Griselda looked up over Marianne's shoulder and gave her the same warnings.

They were almost out when the skull entryway started to collapse. Sugar Plum blurred with speed getting herself and Sunny clear. Dawn shrieked and darted out the side, scraping her knee on a tooth but escaping the closing jaws.

* * *

The castle was nearly deserted already. Bog herded the last few guards away from their posts and out through one of the side supply doors. The spindly twig bridge started to collapse under them into the chasm even as they ran across it. Bog lent his wings to push the guard at the end of the line to safety. They all made it to the other side, just barely in one piece, and ran along the cliff side to where the other goblins had gathered, their king following from the air.

Bog shielded his eyes and blinked to adjust to the sudden light – the sunrise – then started counting his people, trying to see if anyone still needed to be rescued. The ominous sounds of collapse continued behind him. Everyone seemed to be accounted for, except –

* * *

Marianne flew as fast as she could but she already knew it wasn't going to be fast enough. She and Griselda wouldn't make it out before the jaws crashed shut and fell to the forest floor. If the mouth were open wider she could follow Dawn's path, but it was too narrow and getting smaller by the second. Even if she had been willing to leave Griselda behind, Marianne would never make it.

Still she flew, ignoring the burn in her shoulders urging her to drop her passenger, to close her wings, to rest. If she got close enough to the end of the bridge, maybe she could throw Griselda to safety, and then she would be light enough to fly faster and get out herself. They were so close … almost there … they were –

Trapped.

The light ahead winked out of sight. They weren't crushed yet, but trapped in the hollow of the dead animal's palate. There wasn't room to turn around, to go back and hope that the throat, the gap of the castle gate, would still be open to escape through when the skull fell from its perch. The cracks and rumbles echoed horrifically.

_No, please, no, I don't want to die …_

Marianne wrapped her wings around herself and Griselda and braced as best she could for the crash.

_I don't want to die – I don't want to die – I don't want to die –_

"MARIANNE!"

"MOTHER!"

Dawn and Bog both screamed when they saw the skull drop out of sight. The sound carried a considerable distance.

_She's not gone, she can't be gone, she's always been there to fuss and worry and nag, she would never just leave me like this, she can't be – she can't – she just can't!_


	6. Solace

The invading army and the ruined castle's residents were silent, stunned by the sudden loss of their crown princess and their former queen, respectively.

Dawn fell to her knees next to Sunny, grabbed the elf in a desperate hug, and sobbed into his shoulder. He put his arms around her shoulders and patted the back of her head, automatically. Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't try to tell himself it was the dust. 

Marianne was gone. 

His friend; his princess; the woman who had saved him from a lizard; the girl who had gotten into mud fights with him when they were kids; the girl who had first introduced him to Dawn; the girl who had always loved adventure and hated riddles; the woman he and Dawn had come to the Dark Forest to save.

She was gone.

_I did this …_

Sunny's stupid, foolhardy, ill-conceived, misguided plan had cost him his friend's life; and his home, their future queen; and his best friend, her sister. If he had just worked up the nerve to tell Dawn how he felt about her, _if he had just talked to his best friend_ , instead of listening to Roland, _instead of listening to a fairy who had never even bothered to address him by name_ , and running off after a love potion, _and crossing a closed border for an illegal and immoral magic spell_ , then Marianne would still be – would still be – she would –

Sunny and Dawn cried together. Neither one tried to shush or soothe the other. They just cried.

Bog stood at the precipice, staring at where the castle had been. Through the dense clouds of dust, he could almost pretend to still see the huge, gnarled, petrified old tree trunk that had been his home for all his life. As if the world hadn't just taken away nearly everything he had ever cared about. 

"Mum …"

Gnarled hands tightened around his staff. He leaned his weight onto it. He could not collapse, not now. Not ever. His kingdom needed him. But Bog still did not turn around. 

He could not look at the survivors, standing behind him in the growing sunlight. He did not dare look at the elf. His kingdom was invaded and his home was in ruins and his mother was dead and so was Marianne and it was all because of that elf.

He did not look down at the remains. Even if he had, with so much dust hanging in the air, he could not have seen Griselda helping Marianne crawl free of the broken-open skull, or Marianne pick up Griselda again and begin flapping slowly, clumsily, determinedly upwards.

Thang spotted them first. 

"She's alive! THEY'RE ALIVE!" 

The entire crowd gasped and cheered. Several people impulsively hugged each other.

Bog King launched himself into the air and took his mother from the limping fairy. Dawn was close behind him, pulling her sister's arm over her shoulders to support her weight and compensate for Marianne's damaged right wings. Sunny ran to meet them at the cliff's edge. He took Marianne's other hand and helped her to land without falling over. Together Dawn and Sunny coaxed her away from the drop. 

She was coughing from the dust and the exertion, and trembled when she folded her wings closed. One eye was blackening under her makeup. Her teeth were gritted tight, even as she coughed. The flower Bog had given her during their tour of the forest was still in her hair, but crumpled and crushed against her head. 

"You're okay," Dawn promised her sister. "You're going to be just fine." 

"I don't think I can fly for a while." 

"I'll help you. We'll get you back to the castle and get your wings all patched up and you'll be back to your usual fast-flying sword-fighting self before you know it." She hugged Marianne, more carefully than she ever had before. "You're alright. I was so scared for you. But you're really alright." 

Marianne patted Dawn's shoulder and leaned into the embrace. 

Bog, still carrying his mother, was organizing his forces. There had only been twenty other goblins inside the castle that night, but more had come to investigate when it started falling down.

"I want fifty goblins to get down there and start searching those ruins for anything we can salvage. Find the hospital wing, if you can, and bring everything from there up here. Stay in teams of ten, or in pairs if you have to split up. No one is to wander down there on their own. Go!" 

"Sir … uh, Sire?" One of the fairies dared attract his attention. The moth-winged man very nearly lost his nerve under the Bog King's glare, but he rallied and pressed on. "With your permission, a contingent of our – of our forces – will … assist the search for medical supplies." He swallowed. "To treat Princess Marianne's injuries." 

Bog would have refused – hadn't the fairies caused enough damage already? – if he hadn't seen honest concern on the faces of several fairies and elves trying to get a look at their wounded princess.

"Fine." 

Down they went, several fairies even offering and being permitted to carry down some of the smaller goblins. This was very practical, not altruistic and certainly not a sign of overcoming prejudice. The sooner they found medical supplies, the sooner Princess Marianne could be healed, and the goblins would probably be faster at finding where the infirmary used to be, but the flight-capable fairies would be faster at getting the salvaged supplies to where they would be useful. Roland, in his haste, hadn't bothered to acquire medics for his army, and the fairy king hadn't thought to insist on their inclusion.

Once her highness was well enough to travel, they could all go home to the Fairy Kingdom and leave the Dark Forest to rebuild and recover on its own, and everything would soon go back to normal and they could all pretend that the past night had never happened. 

Bog landed, setting Griselda on her feet, then knelt and hugged her with all his strength. 

"Mum … I thought …"

"I'm okay, son," she reassured him. "I'm okay …"

"I love you, Mum." 

"I love you, too, son. My precious boy." Griselda took a stab at lightening the mood. "You're not going to be rid of me until I see you happily settled down, you know that."

"That's hardly an incentive." 

"Oh, just get up and act regal again. You need to thank Marianne for saving my life." 

He cleared his throat, finally remembering that they had an audience. He used his staff, still in his hand during all of this, to push himself to his feet. 

There was a rock forming a natural bench beside the path that had led to the castle's jaw-bridge. Marianne was sitting on that rock, being fussed over. Sunny was using the shiny metal of Marianne's sword to shine light in her eyes, checking for concussion. Dawn sat between Marianne and the crowd, symbolically protective. She was holding Marianne's hand in both of hers, speaking in a low, soothing voice, occasionally stroking her sister's hair or very carefully patting her shoulder. They were still close to the cliff's edge, but far enough that no one would fall by accident. 

"Pupil contraction looks even, but you probably shouldn't go to sleep, just in case. Do you think you can open your wings?" 

Marianne grimaced and shook her head without even trying to move them. 

She had landed on her left side with her wings furled around herself and Griselda. The edge of her right wings had been ground against the wall of giant teeth when the skull hit the forest floor, and now the naturally irregular margins were unnaturally tattered and apex of her forewing was bent. 

Her left wings were in better shape, but the forewing and hindwing didn't quite match up anymore and that created an awkward gap. Griselda's jagged horn stubs had given her a few scrapes on the underside of each forewing, but thankfully hadn't punctured all the way through. 

Marianne's shoulders ached so much that she almost wished all four wings would fall off for a while just to get the weight off her back. 

"My legs hurt, too," she admitted. Her left kneecap throbbed and her ankle may have been twisted when she'd caught it on something while crawling to freedom. Her right leg had suffered the same fate as her right eye, having a broken tooth land on it during the crash. She didn't think she'd broken any bones, but walking wasn't much better of an option than flying at the moment.

They all looked up when a shadow fell over them. The Bog King stood there, his mother at his side. Griselda's pale hide was mottled with bruises, but between the inherent toughness of a goblin and Marianne's efforts of protection, she was in much better shape than the princess. 

Bog knelt on one knee and bowed his head, lowering his staff to the ground. 

"Thank you, Princess Marianne, for saving my mother's life. I … The Kingdom of the Dark Forest owes you a great debt." 

Formally speaking, Marianne should have been on her feet to accept his gratitude, but under the circumstances she didn't think anyone was going to call her improper for staying seated. 

"I accept your gratitude, Bog King. May this be an opportunity to open a more peaceful and amiable relationship between our kingdoms." 

Bog nodded. "We will discuss this further when you are recovered." He stood again. "We're searching the ruins now to see if anything from the hospital wing is still useful." 

"Why don't you sit down?" Dawn invited him, standing as well and gesturing to her former seat on the rock. Bog might have declined if his mother hadn't pointedly shoved him forward before slipping off into the crowd. He almost called after her. Without a word, a few of his guards moved to follow Griselda, making sure no further harm would befall their former queen. 

Bog sat next to Marianne, unsure why exactly he was nervous. The rock wasn't large, so they were a bit closer together than he would prefer, but it wasn't as though Marianne frightened him. Bog had been afraid when he saw the castle collapse with her and his mother still inside, but being afraid for someone didn't have any correlation to being afraid of them. 

Marianne put her hand on his and Bog's heart started beating faster. He turn his hand over so their palms met and curled his fingers around hers, careful to keep the sharp points of his claws away from her skin. 

"I … I'm glad you're alive," he told her. It felt stupid and obvious, but what else could he say? 

"So am I." 

While Bog and Marianne were trying to think of what to say to one another, Dawn pulled Sunny off to the side. 

"Listen, Sunny …"

"You don't have to say anything. I know. I betrayed your trust and nearly caused a war and nearly got your sister killed and you never want to see me again." He sniffed. 

"Sunny …"

"And I know it doesn't make it right, but I am so, so sorry, Dawn. I never should have asked Sugar Plum to make that potion. I should have … well, a lot of things, but mostly I should have respected your right to choose who you want to be with." 

"Sunny." 

"Yeah?" He cringed, clearly expecting the worst. 

"I was going to say I forgive you. I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen and I know you regret it." Dawn crouched so that they were at eye level. "And you and I still have a lot to talk about and a lot to deal with, but I wanted to remind you … whatever happens, even if I don't feel exactly the same way about you that you do about me, I still care about you. And, well … I've never really thought about it before tonight, or I guess it was last night by now, but … maybe we could _try_ going on a date sometime? To see if there's something there I just never saw." 

"I'd like that." It might just give him false hope and end up breaking his heart, but if there was a chance that Sunny could be with Dawn –

 _No._ That kind of thinking had set this entire disaster in motion, and even if it had gone right then it still could have destroyed Dawn, the best part of Dawn, everything he truly loved about Dawn. 

"But, I don't know if we should." He met her gaze, finally. "Seeing all those – _couples_ that the imp put together, seeing what Marianne was like when we first got here – I almost did _that_ to _you_. I _wanted_ to do that to you; I mean, I don't _now_ , but I _did_. And I can't believe you can forgive me for that, because I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself." 

"But that's _why_ I forgive you, because you're really, truly sorry. And you won't do it again, right?" 

" _Never_!" Sunny vowed. 

"Then no hard feelings. Okay?" She smiled so earnestly that he had to smile back.

"Dawn … even if we're never anything … _else_ ," not 'anything _more_ ', because nothing could be _more_ valuable to him than this, "you're the best friend I could ever have." 

"You're my best friend, too." 

That was the scene to which the fairy king arrived. His eldest daughter sat hand-in-hand with the goblin that had kidnapped her only a few hours before, his youngest daughter was in earnest conversation with the elf that had set off the incident, and his people were awkwardly mixed into a crowd of denizens from the Dark Forest. His escort readied to draw their swords, but he held them back. There was still a chance he could get his little girls out of here before any fighting started.

"Hello, your majesty." 

"Sugar Plum? What – what is – what happened here?" 

"Well …"

With a premature cry of triumph, Roland landed in front of Marianne and – when she and the Bog King turned to face him – splashed love potion in her face. 

"Oh, just watch," said Sugar Plum. "This should explain nearly everything."


	7. Antidote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm interpreting the antidote a little differently than in canon. "Real love" does not have to be "romantic love" to cancel out the love potion. In the version on Fanfiction.net, I go into more detail about this.

Bog had sprung to his feet, ready to bash Roland's head in with his staff, but was stilled when Marianne stood as well and put her hand on Bog's chest … pushing him back and away, her eyes fixed on the oh-so-pretty fairy knight. Roland twirled his hair.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch!" 

Every goblin but Bog and Griselda clapped their hands to their ears. Several hit the dirt with cries of, " _Not again_!" Marianne took a few unsteady steps towards Roland. 

"You know that I love you!" 

"That's what I wanna hear." 

"I can't help myself …"

"Course you can't, darlin'." 

"I love you, and – " She punched him in the face. 

Roland fell back and disappeared over the cliff. He lost his grip on the potion bottle, which flew into the air. A small white furry creature flung itself at the bottle, but missed. The bottle shattered where it landed in a tiny explosion of pink glitter. The creature let out a despairing cry, and sat there, hunched and droopy-eared, making sniffling sounds. 

"Um. There, there?" Marianne patted the creature's ear uncertainly. 

"Excuse me a minute," said Dawn to Sunny. She stepped over to Bog's side. She kept her tone deceptively casual and didn't even look at him as she commented, "This might be a good time to mention that Sugar Plum told us how to counter the love potion. She said it doesn't work if the person you use it on is in love with someone for real." 

Leaving him to chew on that thought, Dawn took Marianne's arm and helped her sister sit back down on the rock. The fluffy animal stuck its tongue out at them and hopped away. 

"Weird, but worth it," Marianne insisted. "Hey, Dad. When did you get here?" 

"Just now – are you alright?" 

"Well, considering I had a castle fall on me and I've choked on magic dust at least twice in the last few hours, I'm great. All limbs attached, no concussion, and Bog's got people down there checking if any medicine survived Roland destroying the castle." 

" _Probably_ no concussion," Dawn clarified. "We should check again once we've got a real glow-stone." 

"By then my eye might have swollen shut." Marianne indicated her blackened eye, which hadn't been immediately obvious through her makeup but was getting more prominent. 

"Thang, Stuff, get water!" Bog ordered. "And some comfrey leaves!" Comfrey grew in every other ditch by the river and was an effective bruise remedy. 

"On it, Boss!" 

"Bog King." The fairy king nodded to him, narrow-eyed. Bog could hardly blame him for being wary – it hadn't even been a full night and day ago that Bog had invaded his kingdom, attacked a festival, and kidnapped his daughter and heir. 

"King Dagda." He nodded back. In his defense, he had been responding to a border invasion, prison breakout, and theft of an extremely dangerous substance. Also, though he couldn't vouch for the wellbeing of her sister or the elf before they'd made it to the castle – how had they gotten in without the guards seeing them, anyway? – Marianne had never been in danger from him or his people. 

"Father." Marianne's posture and tone changed to something more formal, as it had when she'd accepted Bog's thanks for saving Griselda. "Since a knight of the Fairy Kingdom was responsible for the destruction of the Goblin Castle, I propose that the Royal Family of the Dark Forest and their staff be invited to stay as guests in the Fairy Castle until such time as their home is rebuilt or relocated." 

"What?" The two kings looked at her, then each other, then her again. 

"Roland destroyed the castle," Marianne explained, still using what Bog was starting to think of as her 'princess voice'. "That's how I was injured. He obviously had co-conspirators, because the Bog King and I could both see him when the collapse began, and before we met him, one of the guards warned us that he'd come in with three other fairies and they disappeared. Roland shouted 'Go', apparently as a code word, and flew out of the skylight. Then everything started crumbling." 

"I can't believe …" The fairy king sat down beside his eldest daughter. "I trusted him. He was supposed to rescue you." 

"He threatened me with my own sword and tried to use love potion on me at least twice before deciding to drop a castle on me instead." Marianne chewed her lip. "And … the reason I called off the wedding was because I saw him kissing another girl. The day _of_ the wedding." 

"Why didn't you tell me that?" her father demanded plaintively. Bog glanced around, looking for an excuse to leave. This conversation was veering off into a private family discussion and he felt awkward standing there, listening. 

"I … A few reasons. I didn't want to even think about it at first, and, who would believe me? Roland always seemed so wonderful before that, I mean, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen them, and then I started wondering if something was wrong with me that made him … go looking elsewhere, and then I just started wishing I'd never even met him and wanting to pretend he didn't exist. And that wasn't exactly easy, since everybody just _adores_ Roland, so, that just confirmed that no one would have believed he did something like that." 

There had to be a distraction somewhere. Anywhere. There was a crowd of goblins and fairies and elves right there; shouldn't there have been a fight breaking out? 

"Oh, Marianne …" She and her father hugged. "My poor, dear girl. I am so sorry." 

Dawn tried to join them in a group hug. Marianne yelped. 

"Oh no, your wings, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Dawn let go and backed up a few paces. 

Bog winced in sympathy and spotted a distraction arriving shortly after it would have been useful to him. 

A bush seemed to be making its way through the crowd. 

"We got the comfy leaves!" Thang's voice was triumphant. Said leaves were huge and intact and the weight was nearly tipping him over with each step. Luckily, the 'comfy leaves' really had been plucked from a comfrey plant. 

"And water." Stuff was carrying a snail shell which had been repurposed as a bucket. 

When they reached him, Bog tucked his staff into his elbow, tore off part of a leaf and dipped it into the water. 

"Um, Marianne? May I …?"

Dagda looked displeased, but Marianne nodded. Bog gently dabbed her blackened eye, wiping away the makeup and revealing the full extent of the bruising. He soaked another piece of leaf in water and bunched it up, pressing it to her eye. 

"Hold that in place." He tore strips from the comfrey leaves and wove them together into a patch, which would be more stable than just cutting the patch out as a single piece, then tore a longer strip. "Here. Keep the damp leaf on your eye, but hold the patch over it." Bog wrapped the longest strip of leaf around her head and knotted the ends. "Done." 

"It already feels a bit better," Marianne commented. "The cold water helps." 

"The bruising should go away in a few days. Probably. That's – that's how it works for goblins, at least." 

"So, Dad," Marianne turned to her father again. "Can they stay with us? At least until they rebuild?" 

"I don't know if that's a good idea." The Fairy King shook his head. "Considering the circumstances … At the very least, before anything is resolved, I feel that apologies are in order. On _both_ sides." He gave Bog a pointed look. 

Bog turned to the elf who had been hanging around Marianne's sister all night. 

"What's your name?" 

"Me?" He pointed to himself, startled. 

"Yes, you." 

"I'm Sunny." 

"Right." Bog took a deep breath and straightened to his full height. His hands twitched nervously around his staff. "I'm sorry I imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy, I'm sorry I ordered my castle guards to kill the elf Sunny on sight the first time he infiltrated my kingdom –"

"You did _what_?" the fairy royal family demanded as one. 

"– I'm sorry I attacked the festival, and I'm sorry I kidnapped Princess Marianne." 

"You ordered Sunny _killed on sight_?" Marianne got in his face and tried to flare her wings out, but stopped with a cringe. Dawn, a look of horror on her face, took Sunny's hand in hers and pulled him close. 

"Only if he reached the castle. I didn't know why he was there; for all I knew, he was an assassin! If a goblin crossed the border alone and got to your palace, what would you have thought?" He looked from Marianne to Dagda. "What would _you_ have ordered?" 

"I would have ordered them captured and brought to me to find out what they were doing there." 

"And if they wouldn't tell you? Or you didn't like the answer?" 

King Dagda either didn't have an answer for this or wasn't willing to share it. He looked away. 

"W-well, you are sorry, right?" the elf – Sunny – asked nervously. "So, if I forgive you, and you forgive me, and we both promise not to do it again … No hard feelings?" He pulled his hand from Dawn's and held it out. It only trembled a little. 

Bog hadn't been expecting that. It would be so easy. It could be considered a revolutionary step towards more peaceable interactions with his neighbouring kingdom. It would also be an absolutely terrible idea. 

"It's not that simple." He looked Sunny right in the eyes and gave him credit for not flinching. "You invaded my country and stole from me. A promise not to repeat a crime doesn't excuse you from committing it." 

"You did roughly the same thing," Marianne pointed out sharply. "One could argue that the two acts cancel each other out. I can assure you Sunny _will_ be facing justice for trying to use the love potion. But since it was destroyed, and he … aided in the quest for an antidote, and his _intended target_ forgives him," looking at Dawn, who nodded earnestly, "I propose that Sunny make reparations by helping construct your new castle." 

"Uh, Marianne?" Sunny looked ready to bolt, or faint. "I don't know how to build a castle." 

"But you're good at following directions and you've helped set up stages and booths at festivals before." Marianne was starting to shake a little. She really shouldn't be standing, with her injured leg. "What say you, Bog King?" 

"That would be … acceptable." Community service was generally reserved for minor offenses, so the elf was still getting off lightly, but it was better than outright dismissing his crimes. 

Marianne relaxed and sat back down. 

King Dagda cleared his throat a couple of times. Bog occasionally did the same thing, especially when he had to say something he didn't want to. 

"I … On behalf of the Fairy Kingdom, I accept your apologies. I apologize to you for the attack on, and loss of, the Dark Forest Castle. Bog … King, I invite you and your family … and, staff … to stay as guests in the Fairy Kingdom – at the palace – until your castle is rebuilt or replaced." 

"On behalf of my people, I accept your apology and your invitation." 

"And you can come right away, since you don't have to worry about packing!" Dawn exclaimed brightly. "I'm sorry; that was insensitive. I was just trying to put a positive spin on things." 

Bog chuckled involuntarily. "It will take a while to organize everyone for travel. Not everyone will be willing to leave, and not everyone who works – worked in the castle, actually lived there. Besides, someone should probably travel ahead to warn _your_ household that company's on the way." 

"And reassure everyone it's not an invasion," Marianne added. "I'd volunteer, if I could still fly. People seeing I'm not being held hostage anymore would be a big point is your favour. Sort of. You know, as much as anything's going to be in your favour over there right now." 

"You can ride Lizzie!" Dawn offered. "I mean, assuming the potion didn't stop working when the bottle broke. You'd think Sugar Plum would have told us if that would do it. She's a lizard," noting everyone's baffled expressions. "Sunny and I ran into her while chasing the imp, and imp love-dusted her while she was chasing us, so now she likes us and she does what we tell her. She'd probably be willing to give Marianne a lift home; unless she's holding a grudge over the blueberry thing. But her eye's healing really nicely!" 

Blueberry thing? 

"If I'm riding a lizard, no one is going to get close enough to be reassured." 

"Good news!" Griselda announced to her son, emerging from the crowd. "I've been asking around, and nearly everyone's got family or friends to stay with while we sort out where we're moving next. We've got five who'll be sticking with us. Do you have a plan yet?" 

"We were just working that out," said Bog. 

"Bog and Dad agreed you guys should come and stay with us," said Dawn. "It'll be good for diplomacy. And it'll be a chance for Bog and Marianne to get to know each other without the potion making Marianne all goo-goo eyed." 

"Dawn!" 

"You were thinking it too!" 

That actually raised two issues Bog had been trying not to think about. How much of the girl he'd started to like was actually Marianne, and how much was the potion's influence? She still seemed to like him, but without the potion affecting her behaviour … would Bog still like her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne threw off the first dose of love potion when she prioritized saving Dawn over staying close to Bog in a potentially life-or-death situation. The second dose doesn't work because she loves her kingdom too much to risk Roland becoming its king. But neither of those things are likely to come up in-story, since everyone's just assuming Marianne's in love with Bog now. (She does like him, but she's not in love. She's infatuated. Give them time.)


	8. Consequences

"Sire!" Brutus climbed up from the pit, a shiny green body hung over his shoulder. Julius was close behind him, ready to steady his brother in the one-handed climb. Standing before the royals, Brutus unceremoniously dumped Roland on the ground and formally bowed to his King. "Sire. We found the saboteurs in the rubble. We locked the other three in a dungeon cage. What should we do with their leader?"

"Keep him under guard," Bog ordered. "He endangered people of both kingdoms, so both kingdoms should decide his fate."

"He attempted regicide," Brutus reminded him. "Shouldn't we just execute him now? He could have killed us all when he destroyed the palace, and Princess Marianne implied he's been trying to usurp the fairy throne."

"When did I say that?"

"You said you were engaged once but he was just after the crown so he could lead an army. This … is the same one, right?" He gave the unconscious fairy a light kick that rolled him over from one of his sides to the other, pressing his wings into the dirt.

"Well, yes, but – we can't kill him! I mean, we can't just let him go, but we can't _kill_ him!"

"When were you talking with … him," Dawn gestured to Brutus, "about … _him_?" pointing at Roland.

"Brutus was one of the guards on my cell, we were talking politics, and it came up. It was after Griselda went upstairs but before you got there."

"If we're not going to kill him, should we at least break a wing and a leg so he can't get away if he wakes up?" Julius asked Bog.

Bog looked like he was seriously considering it, but glanced at the fairies surrounding him and shook his head.

"No, just tie him up and cage him. Good rope. Tie his legs together and tie his arms behind him _over_ his wings so he can't fly or fight. Anything we do to him right now will make his sentence less of an example." Bog scowled and suggested, "Take off any armour on his arms and legs before you bind him. He might not realize he's tied up at first if he's still hiding in his metal shell."

"You got it, Boss. Um, Your Majesty."

The goblin brothers dragged Roland away. King Dagda signalled a pair of his knights.

"Roland is under arrest. Work with the goblins to make sure he doesn't escape or cause more trouble."

* * *

"I found the infirmary!" Othello yelled.

At least two jars were still intact, both half-full of something clear and viscous Othello had never learned the composition of, but knew was used to replenish a slime coat in the event of dehydration. Under a lump of bark there was a bag of poppy seeds labelled 'sedative – to be given one at a time – do not overdose'. Crushed into the dirt, but probably fine once they were cleaned off, were a few rolls of bandages. Almost every other container had been broken to pieces. All the medical scrolls had survived, squashed and bent and torn though they were.

Othello picked up a cracked jar – dandelion root paste, great for cuts and damaged exoskeletons, and what Bog King used when his wings were damaged – and handed it to the nearest fairy, which took one look at the label and flew off.

* * *

Marianne gripped Bog's arms tightly, just above his wrists, and forced her wings open again. King Dagda stood behind her, holding an open jar, ready with the medicine. Dawn and Sunny were a short distance away, fussing over their 'pet' lizard. The animal seemed to shy away from Marianne; maybe it remembered her.

"You're a tough girl," said Bog. "I once bent a wing in half crashing on a river bank. Took hours for Mum to convince me to let her treat it."

"H-how long did it take to heal?" Marianne asked, wanting to distract herself. Her father was applying liberal amounts of the thick paste to her torn wing margins, and it stung.

"About two weeks. I was a lot more careful flying in storms after that." Bog chuckled. Marianne couldn't claim to relate to that.

"I've never flown in a storm." The large surface area of a fairy's wing would have them being shoved about by the force of raindrops hitting them, even before the tiny, hair-like scales absorbed the water and weighed the fairy down.

"It's exciting, but not always fun. It's hard to see where you're going, and usually cold, and the wind is unpredictable. Thorn bushes make a better obstacle course."

At that, Marianne managed a genuine smile, remembering the thorns Bog had flown her through earlier that night. When her wingspan proved too broad to follow him, she'd been about to fold her wings and try to follow on foot, like with the Venus flytraps, but then Bog had come back and held out his hand, and she'd taken it, and he'd carried her through the thicket and shown her a cavern on the other side, filled with the soft green light of glow worms. She'd been thrilled, at his proximity and at flying so close to such a threatening plant and at the beauty and peace hidden behind the danger.

That was a good description for most of the Dark Forest.

"I used to crash into plants a lot," she admitted to Bog.

"That's because you used to fly too fast," her father chided her. "You still do."

 _If I'd flown faster then Griselda and I might have gotten out before we were trapped,_ Marianne didn't say. Flying faster would have meant leaving Dawn behind, and then her little sister might have been the one with damaged wings … or worse.

All three of them hissed when the bent apex of Marianne's forewing was unfolded into its proper shape. More paste was applied, and the corner was splinted with twigs and bandaged with a dandelion leaf. Cloth bandages could wick the paste away from the wing membrane. A dandelion leaf reinforced the medicinal properties of its roots instead of leeching them from where they were needed.

"When I was first learning to fly …" Bog chuckled. "I was nearly eaten by a frog that thought I was a dragonfly. That's how I got this." He flexed one of his wings and tilted his head to indicate the holes. Then, hastily, he folded the wing again, adding, "And once, I crashed right through an old cobweb. It wasn't a real spider web, it was from a colony of caterpillars, and I thought I'd washed it all off, but then Mum asked how I'd gotten sticky and threw a fit over my recklessness."

Marianne laughed.

Bog and Marianne traded a few more stories of flying mishaps; she wanted to avoid thinking about how much pain she was in, and to keep from thinking too hard about the possibility that her wings might be permanently damaged. Bog was more than willing to distract her, and she could squeeze his forearms as tightly as she needed without leaving a mark on his exoskeletal plates, unlike the bruises she would have caused if she'd been holding her father or sister's hands during this.

When Dagda was finished, each of Marianne's wings was coated in medicine on both sides. The overlap of her forewings and hindwings was wrapped in dandelion leaves as well, which itched a little. The paste would absorb into the surface and needed to be reapplied every six hours until the damage healed. In the meantime, Marianne would have to keep her wings open to avoid aggravating the tears or having the dandelion paste stick to itself and rip her wings even further. She could, in theory, just keep her wings covered in dandelion leaf bandages, but that might cause her to overheat, and she would need her bandages removed and replaced every time the medicine was applied.

Amazingly, Marianne, Griselda, Roland, and his three followers had been the only ones hurt. The goblins had fled the castle swiftly enough to avoid the worst of the falling debris, and the fairy army had been caught off-guard by the destruction and hadn't thought to attack.

* * *

Fairies were not very attractive for goblins to look at. Their skin was uniform and pallid and had neither exoskeleton nor scales nor slime coat, their limbs and bodies were elongated to insect-like proportion but so differently structured that the resemblance was eerie rather than comforting, and their faces were so consistent with each other – rather than the proper variety seen in goblin features – that it could be hard for a goblin to tell different fairies apart at the first meeting. Some goblins could barely acknowledge a fairy as a person instead of some kind of animal.

Brutus was one such goblin in his youth. For years he'd thought it was a myth that fairies could really talk. He hadn't been born yet when the King – Pinecone King, Bog King's father – had forbidden his subjects from eating the pixies, fairies, elves, brownies, and sprites that populated their neighbouring kingdom, but Brutus had always been curious what they tasted like and he was more than ready to take a bite out of the ones that had collapsed the castle.

He and his brother Julius would have been stuck if Bog King hadn't shown up when he did.

With Princess Marianne no longer in the dungeons, Brutus had been switched back to his regular post between the kitchens and pantries, guarding the castle's food supply from poisoners and scavengers. It was an extremely important post and demanded a lot of trust in the guard that he or she would not abuse the position to sneak extra food, and Brutus had been the proudest goblin in the whole forest when he was entrusted with that assignment.

But during the castle's destruction, the usual way out from the kitchens had already been caved in, and if the King hadn't warned them then by the time the guards would have discovered that, the secondary emergency exit might have been blocked as well. The twig bridge certainly wouldn't have still been standing. And without the King's help, Brutus wouldn't have made it across the bridge.

And this fairy was the one who had given the order to demolish the castle with the goblins inside.

He looked deceptively harmless when he was unconscious and bound. If the disgraced general hadn't shown himself to be such a monster, the guard might have felt a twinge of pity for him.

The fairy's greaves, boots, gauntlets, gloves and vambraces had been removed and stuck in a sack that was tied around his torso and positioned over his wings to weigh them down if he managed to get his arms under his wings, unlikely though that was. One cheek had darkened to a much more attractive splotching of purple and green, where Princess Marianne had hit him. The fairies not under arrest had insisted on bandaging the lump on the back of his head from his impact with the forest floor, and the wounds his three minions had accumulated when they were caught in the collapse they'd caused.

Some of the hanging cages from the dungeons had been found intact and dug out, and the four prisoners were now locked inside them. There had been some debate whether they should be caged together, to make them uncomfortable and easier to transport, or separately, to make it harder for them to conspire once they woke up. They had been separated.

Brutus was in two minds about what should be done next. On the one hand, he hoped for swift justice, preferably execution, to fall on these fairies so that they would cease to be a threat as quickly as possible. On the other hand, something slow and excruciating would better emphasize the error of their ways and make others less likely to follow in their footsteps. Or slipstream, or whatever turn of phrase flying creatures used. It was out of Brutus' hands either way, but he wanted to decide which outcome he should hope for.

The King had reminded them not to eat the prisoners, and ordered them to cooperate with the other fairies for now. Brutus rumbled warningly whenever one of those sword-wielding false-exoskeleton-wearing not-quite-bugs got too close to his brother or one of the other guards.

Princess Marianne was alright, for a fairy, once she stopped singing. She had been pleasant to talk to. She'd saved Queen Mother Griselda. Brutus was glad the King hadn't let them dismember and devour her. That didn't mean he was eager to make friends with the rest of the not-quite-bugs.

"Calm down," Julius muttered to him. "They're not going to attack us until they get their own royals out of here."

"Two of their own royals were in the castle and that didn't stop them demolishing it."

"This mission was to rescue the princesses, not endanger them," insisted an eavesdropper. "Roland's actions were unconscionable and that's why he's under arrest."

"Don't condescend to me, fairy. Your general is under arrest because the Bog King wants peace and stability, and he won't risk your people decrying our justice as vengeance, so now both courts have to decide his fate together."

The fairy stared at him, open-mouthed. Brutus wasn't sure why he was surprised. The King hardly kept his policies a secret. (He was also unsure whether this fairy was a _he_ ; their bizarre anatomy made genders ambiguous.)

Okay, so his majesty's reaction to yesterday's illegal border crossing had possibly been over-zealous, and the King did play up his claims of being 'evil' to try and justify his ban on love potions, but really, was it so bad to try and keep people from being magically compelled to fall in love with each other? Even ignoring the Bog King's opposition to chaos – an organized kingdom was easier to run – the idea of a love potion was actually quite disturbing. And the experience … Look at what had just happened!

Brutus shuddered, involuntarily imagining his wife Portia belting out that wretched, shrill tune. They'd fallen in love _naturally_ , thank you very much, as it _should_ be. After the Bog King had banned love, they weren't allowed to express it in public anymore, but their love was real.

"I should have figured it out sooner," Julius grumbled to himself. "I heard him send those three off. If I'd had them in front of me instead of following we could've caught them and saved the castle."

Brutus gave his brother a friendly nudge. It was unprofessional to be affectionate on guard duty, but he wasn't going to let Julius blame himself for this.

"If you hadn't heard as much as you did we might not have been ready to evacuate."

"We weren't ready."

"We were more ready than we might have been. And now we know, so when we're building the next castle –" He cut himself off. The fairies were right there; they could hear every word. "We'll not be so easily attacked again."


	9. Reorientation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of medical terminology and world-building about fairy anatomy: The scapula is the shoulder blade. For the sake of this story, fairies have three sets – one set for their arms and two sets matching their double-set of wings. Their wing-scapulae are connected to a wishbone rather than the collarbone. Marianne's shoulders were hurt in the crash, and probably strained before that, since she isn't used to carrying passengers. The patella is the kneecap. 
> 
> I did some research into the anatomy of butterfly wings to apply to fairy anatomy, mostly so I could use medical-sounding anatomical terms. The many discrepancies, such as the wings being able to heal after being damaged, please interpret as a natural difference between fairies and butterflies. I also looked into ways to repair damaged chitin, but could not find reference to any plants that contain natural acetates. Dandelions do have medicinal properties, but they do not contain acetate as far as I know. I can neither recommend nor refute the use of dandelion roots boiled into a paste to repair damaged wings, fingernails, hair, rhinoceros-type horns, or exoskeletons.
> 
> Marianne will be fine soon enough. In the movie, we saw a fairy wing get caught between slammed doors and take no apparent damage after being forcibly yanked free, and although fairy wings did catch painfully on thorns they were never actually torn or punctured, and the one person caught in the collapsing castle got out with only a few bruises and a hurt shoulder. These characters are pretty darn durable.

King Dagda's first priority, he made clear, was to get his daughters out of the Dark Forest as quickly as possible. Now that Marianne's wings had been treated, it was safe for her to go.

Sunny, Dawn and Marianne would ride Lizzie back to the border while the other fairies, elves, and goblins followed behind. The four of them could move considerably faster than the crowd, so they were to serve as messengers as well; letting everyone know that Marianne was safe, the latest … _border conflict_ … had been resolved … _relatively_ peacefully, with the exception of Roland and three other knights being under arrest, and a delegation of goblins were going to be staying at the Fairy Castle while sentences were determined and the goblins' castle was rebuilt.

Bog and Marianne waved to each other as she rode away. On impulse, she blew him a kiss. To the surprise of them both, he smiled, lightly touching the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him before the castle fell. Either from approval, disgust, or because they genuinely hadn't noticed, no one else reacted.

* * *

The Royal Physician, Caroline, practically threw a fit when she examined the Crown Princess' injuries.

"Left third scapula forced out of place, wishbone and three ribs bruised and you're lucky they aren't cracked or outright broken, left patella nearly dislocated, left ankle sprained, right wing margins in shreds, and your right forewing looks like the apex was bent entirely in half!"

Marianne could have guessed most of that just based on what hurt.

"The rib wrapping can be adjusted to hold the scapula back in its natural position. Your leg and ankle need to be splinted and I recommend using a crutch to walk for at least three weeks, preferably four. We'll need to splint the right forewing for that period as well. The tears are easy enough to fix but this is all going to take time and you'll need to keep your wings open while they heal, otherwise you might not be able to open them all the way afterwards. I recommend at least a week of bed rest. The black eye should be fine in a few days if you keep that comfrey patch in place."

"When can I fly again?"

"We'll see how your wings are in a week, then we'll discuss flying. When you start up again, I don't want you moving quicker than a slow flutter for the first six weeks."

Marianne was devastated. She loved flying. It was more than a way to travel; she spent half her waking hours in the air. Flying was part of how she expressed joy, and vented anger, and coped with fear. Even on the ground, how fairies held and moved their wings could be a big part of their body language.

Besides that, it was something she shared with Bog. Sparring and flying together was how they'd gotten close enough for him to start taking down his emotional walls and her to start seeing past the pink sparkles clouding her mind.

If all she could do was lie on her stomach for a week … well, she did have a nice backside, but could Bog even appreciate that? Fairies and goblins had different standards of beauty and that was going to work against her in trying to attract him. Not to mention that after her last relationship, based entirely on Roland's good looks and Marianne's position in court, she wanted her new relationship to be rooted in compatible personalities …

Although she still, shallowly, wanted Bog to think she was pretty. And she was jumping to a pretty far conclusion in assuming she was going to _be in_ a new relationship. Marianne hadn't exactly asked Bog yet whether he was interested or just 'humouring the crazy fairy until she goes away'.

She couldn't go on bed rest, certainly not for a week! She'd be lucky if she didn't go mad from boredom and pent-up energy by the second day!

What kinds of conversations could someone have with the back of her head? Marianne wanted to look people in the eye while they talked, not just look up in their general direction until she got a crick in her neck and had to look at the floor again.

She submitted to the wrapping and splinting and reapplication of dandelion paste, but she balked at getting into the hospital bed. Toadstools were used here instead of the usual flowers, to provide more consistent support for the patients' bodies, with petal-quilt blankets for when the nights got cool.

"If I have to stay in bed, can't I do it in my own room? Lilac and Zinnia and Fuchsia can keep an eye on me to make sure I'm really resting."

"You could." Caroline's expression became somewhat devious. Her diction assumed the artful formality of one broadly hinting at something improper. "But the court _is_ about to play host to a delegation from a foreign kingdom. And you, your highness, may wish to be involved in diplomatic meetings. It may not be entirely _seemly_ to hold such meetings in your private quarters."

Marianne would not blush. She would not. She was.

Caroline had worked in the palace infirmary since before Marianne was born. She had been present at the birth of each princess and taken over as personal physician to the royal family when her mentor had retired, shortly after the queen's death. She had been the one to patch up Marianne or Dawn after flying accidents. She had taught Marianne how to doctor the inevitable injuries and strains of sword training.

She _knew_ the princesses; she was utterly professional in her work, but after knowing someone for years and years and years, informalities had a way of slipping in. Caroline knew exactly how to get Marianne, or Dawn – or even King Dagda, to some extent – to follow medical instructions, and she wasn't above playing dirty to make sure they took care of themselves.

Part of taking care of oneself, as royalty, was limiting rumours and scandal.

Marianne made a token effort to make it sound like her own idea. They both knew the physician saw through it.

"On the other hand, maybe it would be better to stay here. So I don't have to send someone over every time I run out of dandelion paste."

"As you wish, Princess."

* * *

Being out from under the shelter of their trees would be incredibly stressful for the goblins who had agreed to stay as guests in the Fairy Kingdom. Consequentially, most former residents of the Dark Forest Castle were staying with relatives or friends in the forest, rather than their king, while scouting out and constructing a new home. A small contingent had come, mostly to serve as bodyguards for the Bog King and Queen Mother Griselda.

Princess Dawn had given them all a tour of the castle, and done her best to reassure any other fairies they came across who hadn't heard already that the goblins were not invading. The final stop on the tour was the guest wing.

"There aren't any other guests right now, so we'll just call this your wing while you're staying with us. There's a suite at the end of this hall that I figured Bog and Griselda could stay in. The rest of you can go ahead and pick your own rooms."

With a glance to their king, who nodded and waved a hand in dismissal, the goblins dispersed. The royals followed Dawn through a door at the end of the hall.

The guest suite at the fairy palace … both was and wasn't what Bog expected.

"I tried to redecorate so you'd feel more at home," Dawn told Bog and Griselda. "Like I said, we didn't have anyone else staying here right now, so we redid the whole guest wing, but I took care of your rooms personally."

There were autumn leaves, splotched with irregular colours, preserved and kept soft with fairy magic, blanketing each bed. They didn't mask the cloying scent of the marigold mattresses.

Twigs and chunks of bark had been woven into rough triangles and wedged into the corners of the large windows and balcony doors, perhaps to make them look more like knotholes.

Griselda's room had a vase of flowers on the dresser and a floral garland hung over the writing desk; in Bog's room, these had been replaced with a pile of rocks and a length of braided grass.

The common area of the suite had a few petal rugs, autumn leaf blankets draped over the elegant wooden chairs, and another pile of rocks under a low, clear table.

Throughout the suite, the glow-stone lanterns had been taken from their brackets. Shallow bowls and clear orbs had been hung from the brackets, filled with muddy or algae-rich water, and the glow-stones were plunked inside them to soften and discolor the light.

The smooth, light-grey stone walls were randomly smeared with streaks of dirt, perhaps meant to imitate wood grain. Fairy handprints, the size of Dawn's hands, were visible here and there in the smudges.

"It's …" Bog searched for a suitable adjective. He cleared his throat. "Thank you. It's … appreciated."

She hugged him. He stood completely still until she let go to hug Griselda, who was much more comfortable hugging back.

"I'll let you settle in and get some rest. It's been a long night for everybody." Dawn muffled a yawn. "If you get lost looking for Marianne later, just ask anybody for directions. Good night. Or, good morning, I guess. Bye."

The entire blasted Fairy Kingdom was too bright for Bog's taste and reeked of flowers – although the stone of the castle wasn't too bad – and Dawn's interpretation of how Dark Foresters decorated was a little offensive – it appeared she had just tried to make the rooms darker, dirtier, and uglier – but Dawn seemed so earnest and well-meaning that it was hard to get upset with her. Annoyed, perhaps, but not angry.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to sleep on a flower, though. It didn't look big enough, and the sharp edges of his exoskeletal plates would probably catch and tear the petals. He prodded it a few times with his staff, then with his finger.

* * *

The kingdom was buzzing with rumours. Sunny just wanted to get home and get some sleep, but he couldn't go three steps without someone stopping him and asking him whether one of the crazier ideas was true.

No one bothered to ask what had happened, just whether he could confirm or refute something specific.

The Bog King was a prisoner. He was an honoured guest. He was Princess Marianne's new fiancé. He and Princess Marianne had planned the whole thing as part of an elaborate scheme for her to steal her father's throne. The Bog King had overthrown the royal family and was keeping them his prisoners in their own castle, as figureheads to run the kingdom for him.

Princess Marianne was gravely injured. She was dying. She was perfectly fine and immune to love potions to boot. She had been exposed to hallucinogenic mushrooms in the Dark Forest and gone mad. She had lost her wings. She had been eaten by goblins.

Roland had been eaten by goblins. He had been exposed to hallucinogenic mushrooms in the Dark Forest and gone mad. He had been executed for treason.

Princess Marianne and the Bog King had been having a torrid affair, which was why she'd called off her wedding to Roland. King Dagda had been the one to call off Princess Marianne and Roland's wedding because she and the Bog King were betrothed. King Dagda had arranged everything to try and persuade Princess Marianne to take Roland back.

Princess Marianne and the Bog King were already married. Last night's kidnapping had been a traditional goblin courtship gesture. Last night's kidnapping had been a traditional goblin elopement. She was pregnant with a half-fairy, half-goblin baby.

Princess Marianne hadn't been kidnapped at all, but had fought off the goblins when they attacked the festival and chased them back to their home and single-handedly forced the entire Dark Forest to surrender to her.

The Bog King's real name was Boggart, or Lysander, or Nilbog, or David, or Jareth, or Alan.

The Dark Forest was preparing to invade. The Dark Forest was in the process of a stealthy invasion.

The Sugar Plum Fairy had been freed. The Sugar Plum Fairy had escaped. The Sugar Plum Fairy and the Bog King had arranged everything, even her imprisonment, in a long-term conspiracy to take over the fairy kingdom through the Bog King marrying Princess Marianne.

King Dagda was going to remove Princess Marianne from the line of succession if she married the Bog King and name Princess Dawn as heir to the throne instead. While looking for a cure for the love potion used on Princess Marianne, the Bog King had fallen in love with Princess Dawn. Princess Dawn and Sunny had been secretly engaged for years and Princess Marianne and the Bog King were pretending to be in love so that everyone would be too distracted by the Crown Princess' relationship to object to her sister's while Princess Dawn and Sunny got married. Princess Dawn was pregnant with Sunny's baby.

Sunny punched the face of the brownie who had dared impugn his best friend's honour. People stopped sharing rumours with him after that.

* * *

"When's the wedding?"

"Zinnia!" her sisters Fuchsia and Lilac scolded her. The tiny green sprite was unapologetic.

"We just met last night," Marianne reminded her handmaiden. "And I spent most of that blissed out on love potion. I mean, I remember everything, but it's a bit soon to be thinking about _that_."

"I think you're being sensible," Lilac assured her mistress. " _Some_ people," with a pointed glare at Zinnia, "might think sensibility has no place in romance, but you really need to know whether you get along _before_ you get married. Especially with him being a king and you being Future Queen."

"Superstitiously speaking, every married person learns something unpleasant about their spouse after the wedding," Zinnia muttered rebelliously.

Marianne pressed her face to the spongy surface of the hospital bed.

"We don't even know if we like each other enough to _date_ yet. Bog's only seen me either goofy and singing or swinging a sword. Or, well, injured. And with the love potion, I was only capable of seeing good things about him, and who knows how much of that was just something I made up? I mean, it can't all have been just in my head, because Dawn and Sunny and Griselda and Sugar Plum are all confident that the potion's out of my system now, and he still seems nice, but – " She gasped and looked up. " _I've become my sister_."

"What?"

"All that stuff I just said. I'm obsessing over a guy I just met and what he thinks of me. I need to talk about something else. What did you three do last night?"

"We were asleep," said Lilac.

"We didn't even know you'd been kidnapped until you weren't in your room this morning." Zinnia smoothed some of Marianne's hair.

"I thought you'd just gone out for an early flight." Fuchsia hung her head. "I wasn't even worried."

"It wouldn't have been the first time," Lilac pointed out. "None of us were worried until we heard what happened at the festival."

"But shouldn't someone have woken us up?"

"What could we have done? Worrying wouldn't help."

"What's this?" Zinnia pulled something from Marianne's hair and held it in front of the princess' eyes. It was a dark petal, that curious shade which some people saw as blue and others saw as purple. The fairy's hand flew to the remains of the flower in her hair. There wasn't much left.

"I don't know what it was, exactly. It was a flower I'd never seen before. Bog gave it to me. Argh!" She buried her face in her bed again. "I've become my sister. I have become my sister."

"Or your heart has finally healed enough for you to let yourself reclaim aspects of who you were before it broke."

"Not helping, Lilac!"


	10. Kings

The Bog King was lost.

He hadn't been able to find a comfortable position to sleep on that ridiculous flower, and the scent was bothering him, so he'd decided to go visit Marianne. She'd been in the hands of fairy healers for hours now. Either she was resting and possibly bored and would welcome his company, or, after some time away from him with that accursed potion no longer ensnaring her heart, she'd recoil at the sight of him. If it was going to be the latter, he'd rather get it over with quickly and in relative privacy.

He'd intended to take a guard with him, not because he expected to be attacked, but so that the rest wouldn't panic when they woke and he was gone. An ear to each door confirmed that every goblin but him was snoring. Rather than wake one, he'd left a note on the table in his suite, pinned in place with one of those silly rocks Dawn had decorated the place with, and set off alone.

After two turns and a flight of stairs, he had no idea where he was. He'd been tired during the tour. He was still tired. Unfortunately, his sense of direction failed him when he didn't get enough sleep. He thought about going out a window to find his suite again and starting over, but now he couldn't even find a window. What kind of flying species didn't put a window in every room?

Okay, so Bog's castle hadn't had that many windows either, but flight was not a widespread goblin trait. Half the winged goblins in the forest only had vestigial nubs, and winged goblins made up less than a twentieth of the species' population.

Bog closed his eyes and tried to form a mental image of the Fairy Castle. It was hollowed out from a boulder, with a single entrance high above the ground on the south face and pockmarked with doors and windows on the north face. Rooms and hallways were big, both because it was a palace and to allow flying room. And, for the life of him, he could not remember the layout.

So navigation would have to follow the second method. Bog would wander around until he found someone and ask them to point him in the right direction. Simple enough.

* * *

King Dagda could not shake the feeling of impending doom.

It may have been a delayed reaction. Last night had been terrible for everyone. He'd nearly lost both of his daughters. Marianne had been injured so badly she couldn't fly. His kingdom and their immediate neighbour had been on the brink of war. His youngest daughter's best friend had tried to use a love potion on Dawn. His eldest daughter's former fiancé _had_ used a love potion on Marianne, though it hadn't actually worked. And as to _why_ the potion hadn't worked –

Then there was the future to consider. He needed to think of a sentence for Roland and the three knights who had followed him. He needed to keep tabs on the goblins currently in his kingdom, and keep his own people from panicking at their presence. He needed …

He needed to make sure his girls were safe.

Sleep wasn't going to be an option for Dagda until his heart stopped pounding like he'd flown a race. He would go check on his daughters. Hopefully they were getting some sleep after their ordeal.

* * *

Getting directions would be simple, if anyone would actually stand still and let him ask! Bog could hardly be chasing down or shouting after someone right now, but if _one more fairy_ came down a hallway, saw him, turned and flew away …

They did know he had wings of his own, right? Flying wouldn't be an advantage for them if he decided to chase after one.

He should have brought Germ with him. Germ was a tracker. Germ could have followed their scent trails back to the guest wing. He wouldn't be any closer to visiting Marianne, but at least someone would have been able to find _him_ if she sent an invitation. Or a summons. Bog wasn't in the mood to be picky just now.

* * *

Dagda smiled indulgently at Dawn's handmaiden. The sprite was hovering in front of her door with her arms crossed, shaking her head. It was sweet how the little creatures were so protective of his girls.

"Dawn's asleep, Your Majesty. She said specifically to not let anyone in, even you."

"Alright. That's all I needed to know. When she wakes up, tell her I'm visiting Marianne. Dawn's welcome to join us."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Thistle."

"Thimble."

"Thimble." He nodded regally and left.

One would think he could remember Thimble's name by now. She was the only sprite he'd ever met who wasn't named for a flower. Well, arguably Ivy hadn't been named for a flower either, but she had followed the tradition of plant names.

* * *

Was he just walking in circles? Without windows or landmarks, Bog wasn't sure which direction he was going anymore.

He hadn't opened any doors, not wanting to wander into some fairy's private rooms, and the halls and stairs merged so seamlessly that sometimes he found himself on a different floor before he realized it, and the staircases were so twisted and sweeping that they were no help in figuring out direction, and all the doors were covered with gold metalwork that all looked the same to him.

"It's a labyrinth in here," he grumbled.

* * *

The kings each turned a corner and literally bumped into each other.

Bog fell, trying to catch himself with his staff but only succeeding in making a lot of noise. Dagda stumbled back a pace or two and caught himself against the wall.

They blinked and stared at each other.

The first words out of Dagda's mouth were not the most diplomatic that he'd ever spoken, but they weren't the most offensive either.

"I thought goblins were nocturnal."

"We are." Bog slowly got to his feet, seemingly testing his limbs for damage. "The ones that aren't by nature generally are by culture."

He tilted his head to one side, making a noise like a breaking tree branch that set Dagda's nerves on edge. Was that what the goblin's castle had sounded like when it collapsed? Only louder, and echoing …

"You're awake," he pointed out, immediately wishing he hadn't. Dagda couldn't sleep and he hadn't technically lost anything; Bog had just lost his home. Of course he was awake.

"Aye." Bog rubbed his eyes and pressed his palm to his forehead. "I couldn't figure out the bed. Whose idea was it to use flowers for that?"

"They're comfortable and smell nice." What else could one ask for in a bed? "Besides, the shape makes it easier to sleep face-down without smothering yourself."

"We'll have to agree to disagree about the smell." Bog dropped his hand from his face and picked up his staff. "Since I couldn't sleep, I thought I'd … explore. Now I'm lost."

"Didn't Dawn give you a tour?" She'd been quite enthusiastic to volunteer.

"She did. Every hallway still looks the same."

"… I could show you back to the guest wing. Or the library," Dagda suggested at random.

"I wouldn't keep you from … whatever you're doing."

"I'd be a poor host to leave you lost and without a guide."

Dagda was avoiding eye contact. He hadn't dealt much with Bog in the past; unlike Marianne, Dagda had no objection to the goblin kingdom's isolationist policies. The two monarchs had met, extremely briefly, under formal circumstances, and more recently under traumatic ones, but they'd never socialized. How did one talk to a goblin?

"I was …" Bog shifted from side to side, and started again. "I also thought I might visit Marianne. If you could tell me where –"

"No."

Dagda hadn't intended to say it. He hadn't even consciously thought it. It just popped out.

The odd spurs on Bog's shoulders twitched and the goblin hunched in on himself.

"I suppose she needs time alone to rest." Now Bog was avoiding looking at him. "Listen … I realize you've no call to believe me, but most of my threats last night were empty. Marianne was never meant to come to harm."

" _Most_ of your threats," Dagda echoed.

"I likely would have taken more hostages had my terms not been met, but they would have been returned once the potion was. Or when the singing got too annoying."

Dagda didn't know how to respond to that. He and Bog were probably both too tired to be dealing with each other, let alone to be diplomatic. Was music really so terrible to goblin ears? And why would the prisoners be –

Oh.

"Marianne was singing?"

Bog chuckled; affectionately? "First she tried to slice me in half with that sword of hers. Then," he grimaced, "the potion took hold and – well, you heard her. She did a fair impression of it when that _lout_ caught her off-guard." The way he growled 'lout' implied he'd been intending a stronger insult.

 _There_ was something they could talk about, something they weren't likely to argue over.

"What are we going to do about him?"

 _I trusted him; I thought he would be good to Marianne; I thought he would be good_ for _Marianne; I thought he loved her; I thought he would never hurt her on purpose …_

"Does your kingdom have a death penalty?"

"No." The big one had suggested that as well. Were death and imprisonment the only forms of punishment goblins could think of? "We have banishments, but, I don't think I want him wandering free to conspire against us in the future."

"Nor would anyone want him in their dungeons, close enough to do harm if he ever escaped."

"And there's hardly enough community service in the world to make up for –"

" _Community service_?"

"That's when –"

"I know what it _is_ , I just didn't know fairies did it too." Bog chuckled again. "Might be a blow to his pride, at least. Still, that's for minor crimes, and it keeps him close enough to make problems, and better able to do it than he would be from a cell."

Goblins had a concept of community service?

Bog looked from side to side, and above, as though checking for witnesses. He leaned towards Dagda. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"I suppose we could defang him."

"What does that mean?" Dagda's voice became quieter as well.

"Pull his teeth out. It's … ruination, for a goblin. I don't know if it would work the same for fairies. It's harder to eat, harder to fight, and everyone who sees him knows he's done something horrific." Bog shuddered. The spurs on his shoulders rattled. "It hasn't been done in decades. A quick death is kinder. To be defanged is … humiliating."

Dagda touched his own teeth. They were flat and white and shiny and no use at all in a fight except as a desperate last resort. And he pictured another flash of white; the charming smile of the man who had so thoroughly deceived him.

"That's … certainly a point to consider."

It would be more of a blow to Roland's vanity than a detriment to his wellbeing, but if it really was so shameful in goblin eyes, then perhaps combined with some other punishment it would make clear to everyone in both kingdoms that Roland's actions were never to be repeated.

"I don't know much about your judicial system," Bog freely admitted. He straightened his posture and shifted his weight from side to side. "Are the trials a public spectacle so everyone knows he's being punished, or done quietly to avoid giving any similar-minded people ideas?"

"Public. So that everyone knows _justice_ has been done." Justice and punishment were not the same thing.

An awkward silence fell over the two kings, still standing in the hallway.

"Maybe I would like to see your library."

"Ah, yes. It's this way." Dagda didn't know if Bog was actually interested or if he was just trying to break the silence and have reason to start moving again, but he was grateful to have a gracious reason to get the goblin away from his family's private quarters.

He didn't think Bog would harm Dawn, especially deep in fairy territory with so few of his own forces to back him up, but a childhood of conditioning – _"Be good, son, or the goblins will get you!"_ – could not just be shaken off. Marianne had been stolen away and returned physically _broken_ , and even though the goblins hadn't been the ones to do it they were still responsible, and if Dagda could get Bog away from here before Bog realized how very close he was to the princesses' bedrooms he'd show the goblin king nearly any other part of the Fairy Kingdom to keep him distracted.

* * *

The library was cavernous, with round shelving units jutting from the floor like stalagmites, and delicate stalactite chandeliers, and desks tucked against the walls. Bog had to hover to see the top shelves.

He was wearing gloves. The librarian had insisted on them, saying some books and scrolls were old and too fragile to be touched barehanded. Bog might have believed it if he hadn't seen the way the fairy looked at his claws. The basket of gloves under the librarian's desk lent credence to the claim, but surely not everything in the library was so fragile? Bog knew how to read without digging his claws into the paper; it had been one of the first things his tutors had drilled into him, even before reading itself. Besides, how much protection could these gloves really offer? He'd been given largest pair in the basket and they were still too tight. They felt like his claws might tear right through them if he flexed his fingers suddenly.

The shelf he was examining now was packed with books on the history and laws of the Fairy Kingdom. It seemed as good a starting point as any. It would be rather embarrassing for one of the goblins he'd brought along to get arrested for something they hadn't known was illegal. And maybe there was a sentence buried in history that could be revived to keep _that monster_ from hurting Marianne or anyone else ever again.

Bog pulled down a few books at random and settled himself at a desk.

Twenty pages in, exhaustion finally caught up to him, and he fell asleep.


	11. Perspective

The cages were transported on a cart, harnessed to the squirrel Roland had been riding. Squirrels were native to the Dark Forest, but every once in a while a pup would fall from a nest by the border and be found by one of the fay. Since the animals were impressive, strong, intelligent, and vegetarian, the young squirrels were traditionally turned over to the royal family and trained to be ridden. Chipper was currently their only squirrel. King Dagda had given Roland access to the massive steed as an engagement present, and not revoked that permission after Marianne called off the wedding.

When the procession reached the castle, Chipper was unharnessed and taken to his stable, which he would now be sharing with Lizzie. Some debate followed as to how to get the four prisoners to their cells without uncaging them.

The Fairy Castle had a dungeon, but it wasn't very large or frequently used. There wasn't enough space to bring down the cages from the Dark Forest more than one at a time. Since the prisoners were bound and unconscious, the cages were brought down one at a time, the prisoners were taken out of their cages and carried into individual cells, and then a third of the guards took the empty cage back upstairs and fetched the next one, while one-third guarded the cells and the final third guarded the cages outside.

As a precaution, the goblins had brought along a locksmith to double-check the fairies' security measures. Fleance was an insectoid goblin woman, with delicate-looking spindly legs and tiny wings, and coarse hairs poking out from beneath the plates of her lavender-coloured shell.

She was inspecting the door of Roland's cell when he woke up. Unknown to anyone before that moment, some love potion had splashed over the cliff's edge when the bottle broke and had landed on his face.

Fleance instantly became Roland's personal ideal of beauty.

"Do I love you because you're beautiful?" he queried in song. "Or are you beautiful, because I love you?"

She buzzed at him in annoyance. She knew fully well she wasn't pretty. Just because the fairy was uglier than she was didn't give him the right to mock her.

"Do I want you because you're wonderful? Or are you wonderful, because I want you? _Whoa – oof_!" He tried to get up and fell off his cot. By wriggling and squirming like a grub, he managed to get on his knees. "Am I making believe I see in you, someone too perfect to … be really true? Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream?" He leaned towards her, radiating sincerity like the most successful of con-artists. "Or are you really as wonderful as you seem?"

_He's crazy._

She wanted to fly away. Instead, she devoted extra attention to the cell door, making absolutely certain that he couldn't get out and come after her.

"You okay, Fleance?" asked Julius.

She turned her body from side to side – her head could only move up and down and twist a bit – but also waved a foreleg dismissively. She couldn't honestly say she was okay, but she'd be fine as long as the fairy's arms were tied and there were bars between them.

"Fleance …" Roland repeated. Oh, great, now he knew her name. "You are the prettiest creature I have ever been so fortunate as to behold. Your delicate limbs, your shiny wings, the sweet sweep of you antennae, your big beautiful eyes – let me kiss your dainty mandibles!"

He puckered his fleshy lips and pressed his face into the gap between the bars. Fleance jerked back with a high-pitched noise like a mosquito's whine.

" _What_ is going on?" demanded one of the fairies with a shiny grey shell and monochrome wings.

"Your ex-general got love-dusted and he's harassing our locksmith," complained another goblin guard. Fleance didn't know this one's name. She didn't like to think of herself as racist, but she tended to avoid the more lizard-like goblins.

"He's not a general."

"He was in charge of the army."

"That wasn't a formal army, it was a rescue team."

"Kiss me," Roland begged Fleance. "Untie me and let me out of here. We'll fly away together, hand in tarsus, just the two of us." He flexed his shoulders, trying and failing to unbind his wrists with brute strength. "Take my hand … take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you!"

"We should have gagged him when we had the chance," grumbled Julius. "If you think the cells will hold, you can get out of here. The guards taking the cages back will escort you to the border."

She nodded and left, ignoring Roland's cries for her to wait, come back, he was sorry if he'd come on too strong, "but I can't help falling in –"

Fleance moved faster, so the hum of her wings drowned him out.

She felt new sympathy for what the Bog King had endured last night. Fairy flirtation was _creepy_.

* * *

Marianne wasn't wearing her sword at the moment. The scabbard was hung beside the hospital bed so that it would be in easy reach. She reached for it when the door opened, but relaxed when her father entered.

"Hey, give us a few minutes?" she asked her maids. They left. King Dagda sank down onto a visitors' stool.

"You're still awake?" he asked softly.

"I'm tired," she replied. "I just can't stop thinking."

"About what?" He brushed a hand through his daughter's hair. She leaned into the comforting touch and closed her eyes.

"All kinds of things. Possible trade agreements. Bog mentioned," Marianne interrupted herself with a yawn, "there are caterpillars in the forest that make cobwebs. If that's silk, caterpillars sound like a much safer creature to harvest it from than spiders. And I didn't see a lot of metalwork in the forest, even in the castle, so if that's something they want, we could trade metal for silk."

She yawned again.

"Plus," she continued, "there's all the wood there, obviously, and if we could trade for some of that then the elves and brownies could build up their villages a bit more and wouldn't have to spend so much time repairing stuff. Then they could expand the farmlands and food production would go up. Which would insulate us if we have a poor growing season, and give us more to trade with when the crops do well."

Marianne's eyes opened, looking sideways and up at Dagda.

"And Brutus – one of the guards, you met him – he has some ideas about council structure. I don't know if he's talked to Bog about it, but Griselda looked impressed, and I think we could use some of that too. I …" She blinked a few times. Her eyes were going out of focus. "We don't talk about it much and I don't want it to happen soon, but I wanna be a good queen when you abdicate."

"You will be." Dagda was confident about that. Marianne loved their people and their home. She was smart. She was persistent. She was determined to do the right thing.

She was also impulsive and aggressive, but she'd grow out of that, probably. She could temper it when she tried.

A tiny voice in the back of Dagda's mind even suggested that, if he'd listened to her and tried to open diplomacy with the Dark Forest years ago, it _might_ have been a disaster, but it also _might_ have prevented the disaster last night.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Marianne?"

"I'm not saying we should imprison Sugar Plum again, but I do think we should support Bog's decision to ban love potions."

"Why?" He agreed with her, frankly, but he wanted to hear her reasoning.

" _Because I remember having one used on me_." Marianne looked far more awake now. "It felt great at the time, but in retrospect it's really disturbing. I would have done anything – _anything_ – that Bog suggested. If he'd decided to take advantage of that … If he hadn't been a decent guy …" She shivered. "There's a lot that could have happened. It didn't, but it could have. I could have revealed state secrets, or, if he'd wanted to hurt Dawn and Sunny when they showed up, I don't know if I would have tried to stop him. I _don't know_ , and that's _terrifying_."

Dagda's mind conjured several other images of what might have happened. He cringed and tried to force the mental pictures away.

"And if it had worked _again_ , when _Roland_ used it –" Marianne left the thought unfinished and reached for her sword again. She didn't try to draw it, only rested her hand lightly on the pommel.

Dagda grimaced.

"Marianne … _I'm sorry_ ," he said again. He'd been such a fool. Even if Marianne had refused for a solid year to explain _why_ she'd broken off the engagement, he should have trusted her judgement or at least respected her choice.

"I'm worried about Sunny, too." Was she trying to change the subject or had exhaustion scattered her thoughts like dandelion seeds? "He's an _elf_ , and he tried to use a _love potion_ on a _fairy_. And not just a _fairy_ , but a _princess_."

Dagda nodded. Hopefully Dawn would take this as seriously as her sister was, once she woke up.

Marianne huffed and let go of her weapon, settling her arm at her side, her elbow bent so that her hand touched Dagda's arm the way she had her sword.

"If someone doesn't know how much he adores Dawn – and I hate making this comparison because I know Sunny's not like that, he doesn't like Dawn because she's a princess, he just likes _Dawn_ , which is so _obvious_ looking back and I can't believe I didn't see it – but if you don't see it then Sunny looks _practically the same as Roland_ , trying to marry for power. Maybe _smarter_ , for not going after the actual direct heir."

Marianne gestured to herself. Her tone and expression were so pained that Dagda wanted to interrupt. He didn't.

"The nobility's going to be up in arms about yesterday, saying he had 'ideas above his station' and 'this is what comes of letting elves mix with fairies and commoners mix with royalty' and all kinds of nonsense like that, because it's the kind of nonsense that some people have believed all their lives and they've been spewing it at Dawn and me ever since Sunny became our friend."

Her eyes closed again, and her lips pulled back to bare her gritted teeth.

"This could do serious damage to elf rights," she said. "If we don't deal with this then it's only a matter of time before some fairy starts saying we need to restrict the elves' privileges to stop this from happening again, and once we start talking about taking rights from the elves it's only a matter of time before we're taking them from the sprites and brownies, and eventually they won't put up with that because why should they? And then we've got civil war on our hands. All because Sunny thought Dawn could never love him, because she's a _fairy_ and he's _just an elf_."

She snapped her eyes open with familiar fierceness.

"So we need to get some elves into positions of authority – not just in their own villages, but on a national level."

Either Marianne had missed a logical step somewhere in that rant or Dagda was even more tired than he'd realized, because the Fairy King couldn't connect his heir's conclusion with her premise.

"Marianne?"

"I mean it, Dad!"

"I just don't follow."

"Class differences are always going to get between Dawn and Sunny, unless we totally revise our governmental structure – or we disown Dawn, which is _not_ an option," glaring at her father as if she actually believed he might consider doing that, "or the elves break off in a separate kingdom and Sunny becomes royalty there, I guess, but that's not the point. I realize it's not going to fix everything, but if we push for racial equality in the kingdom _now_ then we can save future generations a lot of grief."

Marianne's face was grew bright and earnest.

"If elves are allowed in positions of importance, brownies and sprites too, if we have Councillors and Ministers and eventually noble families who _aren't_ fairies, then it won't be so implausible for Sunny to be Dawn's boyfriend and possible eventual Prince Consort."

Dagda nearly fainted at the mental picture of Sunny as his son-in-law. He'd never had anything against the elf before last night; he'd never really thought about him at all. But the idea of Dawn marrying anyone was an idea that Dagda wasn't ready for yet, she was still too young in her father's eyes to date, and the idea that she might one day marry an _elf_ …

"That. That reaction," said Marianne flatly. "That's the reaction Dawn and Sunny are going to face _every day_ from probably half the people they meet for their _entire relationship_. Zinnia, I know you're listening even if your sisters aren't. Can you bring a hand mirror, please? I need to show my Dad his expression." Then, anxiously, "Dad, _breathe_."


	12. Snippets

Sunny slept poorly. His dreams were a dark mess of sharp thorns and sharp words and falling buildings. The clearest images were of Dawn.

Dawn, successfully dusted, gazing at him with forced adoration.

Dawn, dusted but unaffected, recoiling from him with a scream.

Dawn singing words he wished she really meant.

Dawn looking at him with the same horror and disgust in her eyes that he felt towards himself.

Dawn saying she loved him.

Dawn saying she hated him.

Dawn about to say _something_ , but cut off when the walls of the castle – it wasn't clear if it was the goblins' castle or the fairies' castle – came tumbling down, trapping her inside and Sunny outside.

There were more people in his dreams than just himself and Dawn. Marianne was there for most of it, and Roland, and the imp. Sugar Plum appeared once or twice. A couple of his brothers wandered through, which didn't make sense, but dreams didn't have to.

Sunny kept seeing goblins out of the corner of his eye but having them vanish when he turned to look at them straight on.

He slowly became aware of the sounds of the village coming in through the window he'd left open, drowning out the sound of cracking wood and grinding teeth. The warmth of the early afternoon sun and the blankets tangled around him drew him out of the shadowy woods.

It hadn't been a very restful sleep, so Sunny got up. He wrestled his hair back under his hat and put his overalls and shoes back on.

His parents were in his kitchen. Sunny had moved into his own place years ago, but that never stopped anyone in his extended family from coming to visit. He returned the favour. Considering how few houses in the village had actual locks, Sunny supposed he should consider himself lucky it was just his parents and not a mob lying in wait for him.

Hector and Hannah folded their arms and pinned their son with a look.

"What happened last night?"

Whatever his memories might claim, facing the Bog King and the Fairy King could not have been nearly as scary as this.

* * *

When Stuff woke up, it took a few minutes to remember where she was.

The Fairy Castle felt a lot colder than the Goblin Castle had. When they had first arrived, Stuff had been too relieved to be sheltered from the open sky to notice the drop in temperature. The chill had crept up on her during their tour. She wrapped some of the loose petals around herself. It wasn't as effective as fur, but it helped a little.

Maybe that was why fairies and elves wore clothes all the time. Without trees to provide a sheltering canopy overhead and thick nest of roots below, any warmth seeped steadily away. Maybe the reason the fairies filled their castle with flowers was to try and make the stone feel more alive.

There was a game with stones that goblins played when they were young, especially the adolescents. To show off their strength to their friends, a goblin would take a rock and try to break it with their bare hands. Success was mostly through trickery. Some rocks were more brittle than others. After playing and watching for a few years, one could work out how to test a stone's density and find one fragile enough to crack under the pressure of a goblin fist.

Stuff hadn't played that silly game in a long time, not since before she started working for the Bog King, but she remembered all the tricks and tests. She was confident that she could break off a piece of the castle's walls. The section around the windows was narrow enough to get a grip on.

She wouldn't do it. Rock-cracking was juvenile, and causing minor cosmetic damage to the fairies' castle in retaliation for the loss of the goblins' castle – for which compensation had been promised – would just irritate BK, since he was trying to make nice with the fairies, and she wasn't the type to collect souvenirs so what would she do with a rock fragment anyway?

Well, if the fairies turned on the goblins, Stuff could break off a few castle chunks to throw at them. Seeing their precious pretty palace defaced might intimidate them into backing down.

She had to stop doing that. Last night proved that fairies were far more dangerous than the goblins had given them credit for. Goblins had to start taking fairies seriously as a threat. Or, respect them as worthy opponents; whatever.

What was the King planning to do now? Was he actually going to stay in the Fairy Kingdom for a while and try to rule the Dark Forest from a distance, or were they going back tonight and just taking advantage for now of a place to sleep? Stuff would have to ask him …

Once it was closer to a decent hour to be up and about. She couldn't remember which way her window faced, so she couldn't tell the exact time by the shadows, but it was too bright and therefore too early for any goblin to be awake.

* * *

"I know they're not much to look at, but there's more to them than you'd expect. Pick the right one and you can actually have an intelligent conversation. I suppose they _have_ to be clever, to live and thrive in such a dangerous place, but I wasn't expecting that level of abstract thought. Did you know they have a complex government, just like we do? It's not just the king in charge with all the rest of them lumped together – they have councils and ministries just like us!"

"Brutus, my love, it's wonderful that you're so excited and I'm sure I'll be very interested once I'm awake, but you've been waxing poetic about fairies for five minutes. _Go to sleep_."

"Sorry, Portia." There was a brief pause. "But how do they avoid birds, living out in the open like they do? They're so _exposed_ , all the time! And those bright wings cannot be good for camouflage."

"It's brighter over there. Maybe they look like flowers. Sleep."

"Or they could be warning colours, trying to make themselves look poisonous."

" _Sleep_!"

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, be quiet." She rolled over and playfully nipped her husband's ear. He chuckled and nuzzled her.


	13. Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the reference to Disney's _Enchanted_!

Dawn picked out a fairly casual dress for the day, by her standards. The tiger lily petals were golden orange that complemented her wings. Its black speckles were unadorned at the high collar and long sleeves, but tiny beads were sewn over them on the loose bodice and knee-length skirt to make Dawn sparkle a bit when she moved. The matching leggings – made with every dress, for modesty in flight – were closer to pink than orange, almost perfectly matching the shade of Dawn's wings. The pink part of her wings, obviously, not the yellow near the root or the violet tinge on her hindwings or the black veins and margins.

She couldn't find the shoes that went with this outfit, so she checked her other wardrobe. Dawn had two wardrobes – one for extra-fancy, court formal clothing, and the other for day-to-day wear; yes, she was aware that what she considered casual clothing would be considered exceptionally fancy by most of her kingdom. An extensive selection of clothing was one of the many privileges that came with being royalty. Dawn made most of her clothes herself nowadays, as a hobby. She loved creating things.

Hanging on the door of the formal wardrobe was the blue dress she'd worn yesterday. Distracted from her shoe search, Dawn ran her hand lightly over the gold skeleton-leaf embroidery on the skirt. There was a tear where her knee had scrapped a tooth escaping the falling castle. It would be a simple fix.

She wasn't sure she wanted to fix it, though.

"Are you cursed, or lucky?" she asked the garment.

The first time she'd worn it had been – well, was supposed to have been – her sister's wedding day. After Marianne called the wedding off, the dress had hung in the back of Dawn's wardrobe for a year. If Marianne had told Dawn what happened, then she might have tossed the blue dress into the fire with Marianne's dirt-streaked white wedding gown, as an act of solidarity … though, she might not have. Dawn had a weakness for beautiful things. Every possession of hers was a testament to that.

Dawn had hesitated to wear the blue dress, in case it upset Marianne, but after a lot of internal debate she'd decided to wear it again on the day of the Spring Ball and Festival. Marianne had seen her at breakfast and hadn't commented or looked unhappy, so Dawn figured her big sister was okay with it or just didn't remember when she'd seen the dress last. There had been so many other things to think about on the would-be wedding day, after all.

But then she and Sunny had nearly been eaten by a lizard. And the Ball had started so uncomfortably, with Roland's public spectacle and Marianne's retaliation. And the Festival had been attacked by goblins and Marianne had been kidnapped.

Yet, arguably, every bad thing that had happened while wearing the blue dress had worked out for the best. Sunny and Dawn had avoided being eaten and gotten a new pet, and Marianne had escaped marrying Roland and found new love with the king of the goblins. And, like Dawn had admitted to Marianne last night, no one had actually been hurt at the Festival …

She smoothed a crease and adjusted its shoulders so that it draped more evenly from its hanger. A few pink and gold sparks flowed from her fingertips and healed the torn skirt.

She wished the torn edges of Marianne's wings could heal so easily.

All fairies had some magic besides the ability to radiate musical accompaniment when they sang. That was barely considered magic. Everyone could do _that_ , even goblins. Specific abilities varied from fairy to fairy, but their spells were usually based on plants or glamour. 

If Dawn could enchant anything but flowers and leaves and plant-fibre cloth – if she were one of those rare talents that could bring out the magical properties of a plant, or one of the even rarer fairies with healing power – she'd give every spark of her magic to speed her sister's recovery. 

"You get one more chance," she told her blue dress. "If something dramatic and dangerous and kingdom-affecting happens next time I wear you, I'm going to have to assume you're cursed." 

The dress, being an inanimate object, had nothing to say in response to this. 

Her violet slippers were not, it transpired, in either of her wardrobes. They had somehow migrated to under the vanity. Dawn slipped them on and got to work convincing her hair to form curls instead of poofy frizz. 

"Need a hand?" 

Larkspur, one of her handmaidens, had been hovering discreetly by Dawn's window while she slept. Dawn had told them what happened last night while redecorating the guest wing. The two sprites had subsequently insisted on guarding the princess' room. She'd gone along with it, partly to make them feel better, partly out of guilt for always rejecting Marianne's protectiveness, and partly because it really did make her feel better to know they were there. 

"Thanks, Larkspur." 

"Not at all, sweetie." The blue-purple sprite patted Dawn's cheek on her way to pick up a comb. "Hmm. We might need some water for this." 

* * *

When she left her room, she literally tripped over a goblin. 

"I'm sorry!" Dawn caught herself with her wings and hovered. 

"I'm sorry!" The frog-like goblin scrambled out of her path, eyes wide and antennae-eyebrows down close to his head. His thin tail tucked underneath him. 

"I wasn't looking where I was going!" 

"I didn't mean to get underfoot!" 

"Are you okay?" 

"I – sorry?" 

"I was just giving Thang directions to the infirmary," said Thimble. "Apparently the Fairy King and the Bog King are both visiting Marianne just now. Your father invited you to join him there when you woke up." 

Dawn landed. "Okay. Thang, how about I – we – walk you there?" 

"… Okay?" He fell into step beside her, and the sprites hovered at either of her shoulders. "I – It's not that your tour earlier wasn't – It's just a lot to remember?" Thang cringed as though expecting her to yell at him. 

"No problem. Sunny used to get lost in here all the time when we were kids. We couldn't play hide-and-seek _forever_ because he was scared he'd get stuck somewhere and we'd never find him. Do goblins play hide-and-seek?" 

"We have a game _called_ hide-and-seek, but I don't know if it's the same one you have. One player closes their eyes and counts and everyone else hides and when you're done counting you have to find them all." 

"That's the one!" 

His tail was uncurled and swaying behind him. "Do fairies play tag, too?" 

"Of course! But that's a little harder to play with elves and brownies since it's really hard not to fly and they can't so flying is cheating if you play it with them." Dawn twitched her wings. 

"They're not good jumpers?" 

"What?" 

"Jumpers. You know." Thang leapt with his next step and, for a moment, his head and Dawn's were level. "To catch fliers and pull them down."

"Um. That's not really something we _do_."

"Oh." 

Dawn paused at a staircase branching off from the hallway. 

"I'm going to get some books from the library, so Marianne has something to do when she doesn't have visitors. Do you mind coming along, or would you rather I just told you how to get to the hospital wing from here? Or Thimble or Larkspur could lead you there." 

"I'll follow you. No hurry. No trouble." Thang did look a little nervous, though, shuffling his feet and shooting wary looks at the sprites. 

* * *

"What do you think he's doing here?" 

"He looks like he's sleeping." 

"I know _that_ , I meant – Do you think he's okay?" 

"He'll be fine. He falls asleep on the throne all the time." 

"That can't be comfortable. I'm going to wake him up."

"I don't think that's a good idea –"

Bog growled low in his throat and twitched away from whoever had touched his shoulder spurs. They should listen to Thang and leave him along. Thang could be forgetful and obnoxious, but there was a reason he'd achieved and kept his job as a Royal Aide. 

His neck ached. His back ached. Most of him ached. Maybe getting up would be a good idea. 

He idly swatted away the hand that was touching his shoulder again. Bog stood, cracked his neck, buzzed his wings, rattled his shoulder spurs, and opened his eyes. 

This wasn't his office. That wasn't his desk; the books on it weren't the ever-present pile of documents needing the king's attention. 

He jerked sharply when he saw a _fairy_ , of all creatures, standing beside him. She jerked back as well, flaring primrose-coloured wings. 

"What –?"

 _Oh_. He remembered now. 

"Hi. How did you sleep?" Marianne's sister smiled at him, as though the Bog King hadn't nearly slashed her with his claws a few seconds ago. Two sprites – he thought they were sprites; he'd never actually seen any in person – hovered by her and frowned at him. 

"Fine." Bog wasn't sure what else to say, so he shrugged and tried to stall for time by closing the books he'd left open. 

The gloves split at the seams. 

"I can fix those, don't worry," said Dawn quickly. 

She reached for his hands. It took conscious effort not to recoil. Why did these fairy princesses keep _grabbing_ at him? At least this one didn't actually touch him. Magic swirled around her fingers, then around his. Her spell fixed the gloves and even resized them to fit Bog properly. 

"The resizing will only last until you take them off, I'd need more material to actually make them bigger instead of loosening the weave to stretch them, but I can make new ones that are actually in your size. And for any of your – entourage – who want to use the library while you’re here." 

Bog cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, um … thank you." 

"Sire?" Thang shuffled forward. "I thought your note said you were visiting Princess Marianne?" 

"I – reprioritized," he informed his aide haughtily. The Bog King gestured to the law books he'd been reading. Thang stood on tiptoe to see what he was pointing at. Bog swept the top book off the pile and held it at Thang's eye level. "If I intend the Dark Forest to have relations with the Fairy Kingdom, I should have some idea in advance of what the fay will expect of us." 

"Just being able to read will catch some of them by surprise." Dawn's hand jumped to her mouth. "I mean – just because we have the same spoken language, doesn't mean we'd use the same writing, you know?" 

"What's gone wrong now?" Bog asked Thang. 

"Nothing!" Thang held his hands up, then hunched in on himself, curling his hands in front of him. "Nothing I _know_ of." 

Obviously Griselda hadn't sent Thang. If she knew he was supposed to be visiting a girl, Bog wouldn't put it past his mother to try and set up some kind of barricade to ensure no one could possibly interrupt them. 

If Stuff thought Bog needed to know something, she would have come herself. 

The other three goblins joining the 'diplomatic party' didn't have the authority to use Thang as a messenger, though given how skittish and eager to please Thang could be, it wouldn't be difficult for them to convince him to volunteer. But if there had been a message, even if Thang couldn't remember what it was, he would at least be trying to deliver it. 

"Then why are you _here_?" Bog snarled. 

Thang jumped and stammered incoherently, antennae down, tail tucked in, his whole body hunched – and, to Bog's surprise, inched _closer_ to his ill-tempered king. 

There had to be some sort of limit for how many times one person could be hit with minor epiphanies in one day. 

Thang was afraid of the Fairy Kingdom. He wanted to stay close to Bog for protection. 

"If your room's too bright to sleep in, you can rest under the table here." Bog gestured. The library was brightly lit, but that just made the shadows darker. "Once I finish my research, we're going back to the Dark Forest. I need to organize scouting parties to find a new castle." 

"You're leaving?" Dawn's eyes were wide and her lower lip was pushing out. "But you haven't even been here a full day! You haven't – What about Marianne?" 

"We'll return in the morning." Bog unstacked and reordered his pile of books. "I have responsibilities to my kingdom, _your highness_." 

Thang scurried under the desk. Dawn sighed. 

"Before I go, there's something I have to ask you. Have you kissed Marianne yet?" 

Bog nearly jumped out of his exoskeleton. 

" _What_?" 

"So, you haven't?" Dawn asked. 

"First she was love-dusted and then your father was _right there_. When exactly do you think we could have kissed?" 

"You went on a romantic moonlit flight." 

" _While she was love-dusted_. It wouldn't have been right." 

He'd almost done it anyway, right or wrong. 

He'd picked the flower on impulse. She'd seemed so enchanted by everything he'd shown her, and he'd wanted to give her something she could keep, something more substantial than a memory. After Bog had tucked the flower behind Marianne's ear, she'd been looking at him with such an adoring smile that he'd started to lean in before catching himself, and pulling away. 

_It's the potion smiling at you, not her; this isn't right; this isn't real; it's just the potion._

"She's not under a spell anymore," Dawn reminded Bog. Her almost sing-song voice had him ready to dive for cover. Then she became serious. "Do you _want_ to kiss Marianne?" 

That question was more terrifying than any song she could have sung. 

"We barely know each other." 

"You don't have to tell me. But if you want to kiss her, you should ask her." 

"We've only had two real conversations while she was in her right mind, and one of those was mostly her shouting at me for trying to kill your boyfriend _yesterday_." 

"Sunny's not my boyfriend yet, and all relationships have to start somewhere." The look she was giving him was probably supposed to be encouraging rather than intimidating. "You ought to rush to her side, and pull her in your arms, and pour your heart out in _beautiful ballad_!"

Bog tried to edge discreetly away from Dawn. He looked around, hoping to spot someone who might take pity on a poor goblin king and rescue him from the fairy princess. Shouldn't the librarians be there, at least, to shush them? 

"Or, I could … _not_ do that?" he suggested. 

"You're right; Marianne's not really a ballad kind of girl. It's amazing how well you two have gotten to know each other in such a short time." 

" _Speaking of Marianne_ …" One of the sprites, the silvery-green one, tugged at Dawn's flared collar. "Are you going to go visit your sister today or not?" 

Dawn nodded, first to the sprite, then to Bog. "I … guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." 

Bog inclined his head stiffly. "Good day, Princess." 

Dawn left him to his books.


	14. Council

Dagda managed to shake off his shocked and vaguely queasy expression, though the feelings still roiled in his gut. There was a very hesitant tap on the door. Zinnia nearly dropped the mirror and Marianne's hand jumped to her sword hilt again. The sprite flew over to the door and hovered beside it, holding the hand mirror like a club.

"Come in," called Marianne.

A younger fairy in a page's uniform entered, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Terribly sorry for interrupting – Your Majesty – Your Highness – but the Council is insisting they need to meet with King Dagda to – to discuss the – goblin situation."

"Of course." Of course it would need to be dealt with quickly, of course he wouldn't be getting any sleep until tonight, of course his responsibilities came first … "Tell the Council I will meet with them –"

"Here," Marianne interrupted. "And that I will be participating in the discussion as well."

"Marianne!"

The king and the princess glared at each other.

"Roland's not the only one to talk about starting a war with the Dark Forest. The goblins are going to need an advocate and the Council won't listen if we bring in an actual goblin representative."

"Marianne, you – you've been through a traumatic experience; you need time to rest and recover. You know I usually trust your judgement –"

"No, I don't know that," she said flatly. "If you trusted me, you wouldn't have spent a year pushing me to take Roland back."

Would that ever stop feeling like a knife to his heart?

"I'm sorry," said Dagda again, "and I'll do everything I can to earn your trust back, but right now –"

"That's just it, Dad. _This_ is what we need to do to build trust again. I have to convince the Council that putting all fay races on equal terms is what's best for our kingdom, and that working with the Dark Forest is going to benefit both sides. If you can't trust me to look out for our people, how can you trust me to be your successor?"

"You might consider finding a chair," Lilac told the page kindly. She and Fuchsia had returned at some point. "This could take a while."

"You shouldn't be straining yourself while you're injured."

"The kingdom isn't going to stop needing me every time I get hurt or sick."

* * *

Now _this_ was interesting …

Bog idly wished he had some blank paper and some ink; perhaps a pen as well, although his claw could function as a stylus so long as he was careful. He had to settle for making a mental note.

Assuming the Fairy Kingdom hadn't revoked this law since the book he held had been written, they did have a precedent for execution. It just wasn't widely acknowledged, because the executed criminal was then expunged, forbidden to be discussed, all records of their existence censored.

As far as fairy law was concerned, they didn't need a death penalty, because anyone who merited such a sentence would spontaneously and retroactively cease to exist.

For a creature like Roland, motivated as he was by ambition, it could well be the perfect poetic punishment …

Bog read a little further and bit back a curse. The execution-and-expunction law had been repealed a scant six months after it had first been passed. No further details were provided.

"Oops," said Thang, still under the desk. He was looking through books Bog had already read, in case the king had missed something important or useful.

" _What now_?"

"I bent the page. But I can smooth it out!" he insisted. "No need to bother the librarians."

Bog managed to sigh in frustration rather than growling.

* * *

"With all due respect, Your Highness," spoken in that infuriating tone that meant there was no respect at all, and if there was then it was for her rank, not for her intelligence or integrity or objectives, "the border has been closed for generations, and the Fairy Kingdom is flourishing. What good can come of risking ourselves to deal with," there was a shudder here, "goblins?"

"Wood, silk, possible new medicines, and greater safety for our people," listed Marianne. "If there were proper communications between goblins and fay, last night's _events_ could have been avoided."

Another councillor, Marianne wasn't sure which one, muttered under their breath, presumably to their neighbour, "It could have been avoided if that _elf_ hadn't –"

" _Sunny's_ actions were at _Roland's_ behest." Not entirely; Sunny had never denied he'd hoped to use the potion on Dawn, and Marianne still wasn't entirely ready to let that go, but she wasn't going to let anyone _else_ push her friend around for this. "Roland would not have been able to influence him into doing something Sunny knew was ethically questionable if elves were more accustomed to fairies dealing with them as equals." Because if Sunny thought there was a chance Dawn might not reject him, he would have told her how he felt.

"Your Majesty." Ah, now they were ignoring the heir apparent in favour of the current monarch, as though they would never have to deal with her directly. "I question the _appropriateness_ of the Princess attending this meeting. In light of her – recent trauma, it's possible that her judgement is –" hastily, " _temporarily, partially_ … ah, compromised."

"Crown Princess Marianne is of an age to decide for herself if she's well enough to attend meetings." Her father sounded tired as he repeated her earlier argument for the Council. "The Royal Physician has confirmed she sustained no concussion or other brain injuries."

"What about magical influence?" piped up a fourth councillor. There were twelve altogether. "Can we confirm the love potion is actually gone? Do we have any evidence other than Sugar Plum's word?"

_I don't feel the urge to sneak out of this meeting, find the Bog King, and snuggle him. Actually, that does sound nice … But this meeting is important, and I don't think he's the snuggling type, and I'm not deluded into thinking just having him here would resolve everything._

_How_ am _I supposed to prove the dust isn't affecting me? Either I like Bog because magic is making me like him, or magic can't be making me like him because I already do …_

"What I feel for the Bog King and why is not relevant to this discussion. This is about what our kingdom needs. I want to make the Fairy Kingdom better and I want to do it gradually so there isn't an enormous upheaval right after my coronation."

Marianne wished she could be standing for this next announcement, but Caroline had put her foot down about that. The physician wasn't entirely happy with a council meeting happening in her ward. She'd only agreed on the condition Marianne would stay in bed.

"That's why, with my father's support," though it had taken an hour to argue him into it, and she suspected he gave up from exhaustion rather than conviction, "I am going to be revising and expanding the Royal Council. We will be joined by a goblin ambassador, designated by the Bog King."

There were gasps of shock and horror and disgust. The reaction was nearly as bad when she continued, "Furthermore, to strengthen all parts of our kingdom, there will be greater representation of the various fay races in this Council."

"How –?"

Marianne didn't wait for the rest of that sentence. From the angry tone, it was probably going to be along the lines of, 'how dare you?'

"By the end of this month, three representatives each for the sprites, brownies and elves will assume council seats, with all rights, privileges, and responsibilities thereof."

" _Your Majesty, you would allow_ –?"

"Your Future Queen is addressing you." The king's voice was mild, the tone he'd used when Marianne and Dawn were small and got into mischief. It was the tone that said he wasn't angry but they shouldn't push their luck.

"Your Highness considers this a _gradual change_?" That sounded like it was spoken through gritted teeth. Not being able to look up for long was aggravating. She had to infer their reactions by sound alone.

"The ultimate plan is for the citizens to select their representatives by popular vote of the candidates. Popular vote will also determine which three of the current fairy councillors will hold their positions," she raised her voice over the predicted uproar, "and which of you will be transferred to the new People's Council, consisting of anyone nominated who is ultimately not selected for the Royal Council."

"After the new Royal Council is established," Marianne pressed on, "voting will be re-held seasonally, with fairy councillors selected in the spring, sprites in the summer, elves in the autumn, and brownies in the winter. I think it would be a nice solstice-and-equinox tradition. Every legal adult can vote. After the initial selection of candidates, voting will be species-segregated. Sprites, for example, would know best which of the sprite candidates will represent their best interests."

Mixed couples were rare, but if Marianne succeeded with her integration idea, it might become more common, so the next point – initially an afterthought – was an important one.

"An exception will be made for pixies, who will be allowed to vote for each of their parent species. Second-generation pixies, or further descendants thereof, will be allowed to vote in each category regardless of specific ancestry. Pixies may also be nominated as candidates for any category in which they can vote."

Hypothetically, that could lead to a situation such as an elf-brownie-sprite pixie – by definition, second-generation – being nominated as a fairy councillor, but Marianne wasn't too worried about that. Cross-fertility was rare and pixies even more rarely had children of their own. Sugar Plum, absurdly powerful and slightly warped from the mixed magics of her half-fairy half-sprite heritage, might actually be the only pixie currently alive; Marianne would have to review the census to be sure, but considering she was on bed rest, it wasn't as though she wouldn't have time.

There was a long, terse silence. The creaky voice of the oldest councillor broke it.

"What will the duties be of this People's Council you mentioned?"

"Petitions. Citizens who can't or choose not to come to Open Court can bring their petitions to the People's Council, who will argue it on their behalf or advise them on how to resolve their situation."

* * *

Dagda rubbed his eyes, leaning on the wall outside the main door of the hospital wing. The Council meeting had wrapped up quickly once the councillors had realized Marianne wouldn't be budged about her revisions for the Council or her diplomacy plans, and that she had her father and king's support for both ideas.

King Dagda viewed it as more of an experiment than an actual plan for the future, but many of Marianne's ideas were good ones and greater representation would definitely influence the brownies, elves and sprites in the princess' favour, so if anything did go wrong with the goblins, she would have her kingdom united in her defense. Assuming the fairies had calmed down by then about the idea of non-fairy nobility. Besides, Marianne was right about it being safer to test out these projects of hers now, rather than wait until after she became Queen.

He saw his youngest daughter coming towards him and smiled warmly to her.

"Dawn, my dear, how are –?"

"I'm mad at you," Dawn informed her father.

"What?" Where had that come from? " _Why_?"

"You sent an army after us when Sunny and I had the whole thing under control! Okay, we did still have to deal with Marianne's love-potion-fixation on Bog, but we were free to go as soon as we could convince her to go with us, _and_ nobody was in danger until the army showed up. I told you not to worry! Sending an army to follow someone is the opposite of not worrying!"

"You – you flew off on impulse, alone with an elf who just admitted to trying to use a love potion on you, and you were planning to go _into the Dark Forest_ with him to break into the stronghold of the goblin king, who just overwhelmed the entire Royal Guard and kidnapped your sister! Of course I was worried! I'd be a terrible parent _not_ to be worried!"

"Oh, sure, when you say it like _that_ it sounds all _reasonable_ , but I'm still mad at you!"

Why couldn't this day just _end_?!


	15. Guarded

Marianne had a new visitor. This one promised to be much more pleasant company than the Royal Council.

"Hi, Bog."

"Hello." He smiled at her, shyly.

She glanced around to confirm it before she told him, "We're alone."

"I noticed."

Marianne rolled onto her side, wings fanning straight out behind her, and ran one hand sensuously over the space beside her on the bed.

"You look tired." Actually he looked _very_ awake. "Maybe you should lie down?"

Bog faked a yawn and stretched, turning this way and that so Marianne could better admire his sculpted body.

"I must admit you're right."

He lay down next to her. Marianne scooted closer to him and Bog put an arm over her shoulders.

"I know you didn't believe me before, because of the potion, but … I do love you, Bog."

He kissed her softly. With his lips lightly touching hers, he whispered, "I know. And … I love you, too, Marianne."

Emboldened by their kiss and mutual confession, Marianne hooked her leg over his hip. Bog rolled onto his back, pulling Marianne on top of him. They both made soft, inarticulate, appreciative noises. Marianne opened her wings out flat again.

Bog put his arms almost around her. His palms were on her shoulders, his knuckles against the underside of her wings, his sharp claws just barely touching where the struts and membrane of her wings branched from her back.

He began rubbing her shoulders in slow circles that had Marianne melting into a happy puddle and clenching her legs more tightly around his waist.

"Mmm … Bog, that feels so nice."

She walked her fingers up his arms and started toying with the roots of his shoulder spurs. They rattled under her touch.

Bog pressed his face into her scalp. Marianne couldn't tell if he was kissing her hair or smelling it or just enjoying how soft it was, but she loved the idea that he was overwhelmed by her and at the same time couldn't get enough.

She craned her neck and arched her back, flattening her wings even further to get the most possible contact with his hands, and turning her head to press a kiss against his jawline. Her breasts scrapped against his chest plates and her pelvis ground into his. Bog gasped into Marianne's hair and suddenly his mouth was on hers in a ferocious kiss.

She unwound her fingers from his spurs and grabbed at his ears, his neck, anything to keep him this close to her. His claws were digging into the base of her wings, but in the heat of the moment she didn't care if he _shredded_ them as long as he never stopped kissing her like this. She moaned his name and felt her throat vibrate right against his, and the noise he made in response – " _Mrrnn_ " – sang through her entire being and felt more like her name than her real name ever had.

"Marianne?"

Oh, someone else was coming. They should probably stop; it wouldn't do to be caught like this; it was too soon; the two of them would face enough gossip without adding fuel to the fire; but _oh_ she didn't _want_ to stop –

"Marianne?"

_Wait, was that …?_

_Dawn!_

Marianne jolted awake. It took a moment to get her bearings.

She was still in the hospital, still lying on her stomach with her wings out, but she wasn't on top of Bog, which was a tiny bit disappointing but mostly a relief. Her sister hadn't caught her in a compromising position with the King of the Dark Forest. She'd just woken Marianne from a … _very intimate_ dream.

_Maybe the potion hasn't completely worn off yet …_

"Hey, Dawn."

"Sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"It's just that you were making little noises like you were in pain –"

" _I'm fine_!" Marianne insisted in a squeak.

"And also we're alone right now and I wanted to know what your plan was and how I could help."

"Plan?"

"To show Bog how wonderful you are so he'll fall in love with you."

"Ah …" Marianne's ears drooped and her cheeks flushed. "I don't exactly … _have_ a plan. As such. I was thinking we should stay focused on diplomacy for now."

Her ears went up again as she elaborated. She felt much more clear-headed now that she'd had some sleep.

And _no_ , she was _not_ going to think about _that dream_.

"Bog and I can spend time together discussing things like how to translate our economies for trade to work. I mean, I don't even know if goblins have currency or if they use a barter system. We also need to figure out if any fundamental laws are different, to avoid tragic misunderstandings. After a few weeks, hopefully he'll forget how annoying I was when I was love-dusted and we'll become friends."

Dawn tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"It's a good plan … but it's not …" She spread her arms in a wavy shrug. "It's not very romantic."

"It's not supposed to be romantic. It's supposed to be a way to bring our kingdoms together so everyone can benefit, with the added bonus of giving me an excuse to spend time with Bog. Like a less ludicrous version of how I tried to impress him by asking Brutus and Othello about Dark Forest politics. If he's a good king, a good leader, then the best way into his heart is through his subjects."

Marianne grimaced at her own words.

"I don't like the idea of _having a plan_ to _make_ him fall in love with me. It feels too much like what Roland did."

"You're nothing like –!"

"I know, Dawn. I just … it's all just kind of a mess." She flexed her wings without thinking, winced, and settled them again. "I don't even know for sure if _I_ like Bog or if it's a leftover effect from the dust. And Bog …" Marianne hesitated to share this part, but decided that if she left out what little detail she knew, it would be forgivable. "Bog's had his heart broken before. I don't want to be another person who hurt him."

"You love him," Dawn insisted. "Sugar Plum said the antidote to the love potion is real love. If you hadn't fallen in love with Bog last night, the potion would have worked when Roland used it on you."

Marianne shuddered and nearly retched.

" _Regardless_ of whether or not I – if I'm in – whether my feelings are _that_ , I learned enough about Bog last night to know that trying to be romantic isn't actually going to endear me to him."

* * *

The forest looked different in the daylight. The sun was no longer directly overhead, but it was still mostly blocked by the canopy, save for a few rays piercing down. No fireflies were out and about, and none of the luminescent plants were glowing, making the forest seem darker than it was at night. The scent of wood and moss cocooned Bog; the rustle of leaves and animals made a familiar background noise, punctured by the occasional cacophony of birds; the late afternoon shadows offered sanctuary from the open, bright, _strange_ fields across the border.

Griselda had decided to stay in the Fairy Kingdom while Bog went back to check on their home. Sorrel, Grub and Phyton remained with the Queen Mother. Thang and Stuff were with the Bog King, following him on a dragonfly.

Thankfully the dragonfly stables had been tucked behind the castle and not directly connected, so the swarm had not been harmed during the destruction – only badly spooked. Even though they'd gone to the Fairy Kingdom on foot, the goblin delegation had brought a few of their insects with them in case they needed to leave quickly.

At their size, and since they tended to be going to the same destination, Stuff and Thang often shared a single mount. Over the hum of wings and the sound of the forest, Bog could hear the two of them talking. It wasn't the most stimulating conversation, but Thang's piping voice was hard to block out.

"I like that smell. Aftershave?"

"No."

"Is that cologne?"

"No."

"Sunscreen?"

"No."

"Wait, wait … Body lotion?"

"No."

"Cold cream?"

"No."

"Ah – got it! Deodorant!"

"… It's perfume."

"No … Are you a girl?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Bog glanced back in time to see Thang nearly fall off the dragonfly.

"It's kind of subtle."

Stuff looked displeased. Reading a goblin's gender identity wasn't usually difficult, since most races of goblin had the natural ability to switch their sex. It was generally known and accepted that Thang was a little dense, but that was just … strange.

Bog caught himself wondering how Marianne would have reacted if Bog hadn't known she was a girl. He shook off the thought as irrelevant.

What had been the castle was just ahead. Bog grimaced at the gaping space that should have been a mighty – well, somewhat decrepit – tree-trunk, old and branchless, petrified by lightning generations ago, steady and enduring and one of the constants of his life. He closed his eyes – briefly; it wasn't smart to fly blind even in familiar spaces – and filled his lungs with the smell of home to combat the ache in his heart.

Even from a distance, he could see goblins surrounding the ruin. They would cluster here and there, then scatter into smaller groups or individuals, some heading down into the wreckage, others scampering off into the forest.

"Your Majesty!"

A small, beaked goblin with perpetually exposed fangs climbed up one of the hulking red-hided goblins, and waved his arms to flag the king down. The larger goblin – Othello – didn't react. It was common for smaller goblins to use the big ones as perches, just as it was common for the larger goblins to use the little ones as projectile weaponry. It was sort of like teamwork.

The Bog King landed before his subjects.

"We have a report on the damages, Your Majesty!" Grimsby – uncreatively nicknamed 'Grim-Beak' for his facial structure – hopped off Othello's head and bowed. "We were able to recover all the books and scrolls from the library, we think, and all the books and scrolls and papers from your office. All medical texts and about a quarter of the medical supplies are usable and they've been temporarily set up as a first aid tent in case anyone gets hurt in the excavation. Rocco insisted."

Bog nodded. The physician was no doubt fussing furiously over every goblin who had been so little as bruised last night, if he wasn't out leading search teams to replenish his supplies. It would be difficult replacing the lost medicine, depending on what exactly had been destroyed, but not impossible. Perhaps the only thing that the Bog King was willing to admit was useful about spring was that most medicinal herbs were as fresh and abundant as they ever got.

Grimsby looked away for a second before he continued. "The furniture is in bad shape. What wasn't smashed to bits would probably still be easier to replace than to fix. The bone-carved pieces are alright, but everything wooden is in splinters."

"Not surprising." He'd make do. That didn't seem bad enough to justify how nervous Grimsby was starting to look.

"And … almost all of the food was destroyed."

Bog's shoulders flared open, his teeth clenched, and he slammed the butt of his staff into the dirt.

" _What's left_?" he snarled.

"A-about a week's worth. Portia supervised the transfer to the Winter Larder a-and sent out foragers to gather eggs if they could find any." The Cold Cache, or Winter Larder, was where the Dark Foresters stored what food they could for the winter. Grimsby grimaced with surprising eloquence, considering he didn't actually have lips. "She wants to talk to you."

Bog nodded and took to the air again. Portia was easy to spot. The Captain of the Guard was as tall as the King, and wore a double-headed flint battle-axe strapped across her back. Her hands were occupied with crutches.

"Bog King." She nodded more than bowed.

"Captain."

"I've been briefed on … yesterday and last night's _events_. Brutus also gave me a very thorough summation of what we've learned about the fairies' government."

"You still have three weeks of leave," Bog pointed out. After she'd broken her leg five weeks ago, Portia had been granted two months off to recover. She was still wearing her cast.

"Considering our security was penetrated three times in a matter of hours, it's obvious I'm needed _now_."

The grey-green-brown-blue mottling of her warty skin twisted on her face like a whirlpool when she scowled.

"None of my lieutenants were talking to each other. The Castle Guard was patrolling almost at random and no one was arranging for posts to be covered if the original guard was transferred somewhere else. If I'd appointed one of them to coordinate everything, we wouldn't have had so many gaps for that first elf to slip though."

She scraped her needle-sharp teeth against each other.

"Even _if_ it got to the dungeon, the guard on Sugar Plum's cell would have caught it there before she could make the potion for it."

"Him," Thang corrected, ever-helpful. Stuff glared at him.

"A broken bone wouldn't have stopped me from organizing and delegating. I intend to make up for my oversight," Portia concluded. "I put sentries back on the border and along the widest roads; apparently everyone but the mushrooms fell back once the primroses were cut. Whatever food we could salvage from the castle is safe in the Cold Cache and under guard. Rocco, Mavis and Cole are drafting a new ration plan for your approval. Well, Rocco's helping when he's not bandaging any idiot who got themselves hurt digging in the rubble. We've had eight of those so far. I also sent three foraging teams to try egg gathering – there have to be some birds with their eggs laid already – and three scouting teams to find possible sites for a new castle."

"Good work." Instead of accepting a promise of future assistance in construction, Bog should have demanded the Fairy Kingdom replenish the goblins' food supplies. Maybe he could insist on further concessions in light of newly revealed harm, or maybe he could set up some kind of trade arrangement, though what he had that fairies might want he couldn't say –

"Now that you're here, Your Majesty, I hoped you could refute or confirm the rumour that you've opened _diplomacy_ with the fairies." Portia's face was impassive, but Bog could hear the sneer in her voice on the last words.

"I have." Flat voice. A declaration, a decree, something not to be questioned. "Their crown princess saved my mother's life."

"The princess who was magically obsessed with you?" Portia didn't have eyebrows exactly, but one of her dark eyes narrowed and the other widened. "Determined to gain your favour by any means she could? _She_ saved your mother from danger caused by _fairy_ soldiers?"

"That wasn't Princess Marianne's fault!" Thang piped up.

"She and her sister were in danger as well. The fairy responsible for _this_ ," Bog gestured at where his castle should be, "was attempting to use the love potion on Marianne for his own gain."

"So I've been told. That seems to be the most consistent detail in every story." Portia huffed. "If fairies are capable of teamwork or scheming, then they're capable of teaming up and scheming _against us_." She tapped the foot of one crutch against Bog's scepter. "Keep your guard up, Your Majesty. A single gesture doesn't _prove_ someone is trustworthy. She might just be a good actor."

"Wouldn't it be actress?"

" _Thang_."

"I'll take your concerns under advisement," Bog assured Portia. "When are the scouting teams due to report back?"


	16. Food

Bog could make out the angry sounds of arguing before he got close enough to hear the exact words.

Rocco, Cole and Mavis were huddled around a non-sentient mushroom they were using as a table. Some papers were between them, and Mavis was gesturing emphatically at one in particular. Cole was snapping his mandibles and stabbing his clawed hand at two other papers in turn. Rocco was trying to make calming gestures and looking steadily more annoyed as he was ignored.

Rocco was an Igorian goblin, hunchbacked and smooth-skinned, bright green and yellow with orange hands and feet, and a skinny rat-like tail. He had a flat nose and internal ears, and long incisors that gave him the look of a rodent despite his tree frog body. He was soft-spoken and even-tempered, and his skills in medicine made him highly respected even before he'd become Royal Physician.

Cole had a sharp wit and a sharp appearance to match. He had an exoskeleton and shoulder spurs, as Bog did, and his face was rather like a spider's, although he had only one set of eyes. His dark colouring blended well with the earth around him. He was the Minister of Resource Management. Right now, he was snapping at Mavis, "Do you realize how many goblins it takes to bring down a raccoon?" 

Undaunted, Mavis retorted, "If the meat's spoiled and inedible, why shouldn't we use it as bait to get new meat? A goblin alone can kill a raccoon if they're well-armed and know what they're doing!"

Mavis … Bog's first love. Green-scaled and elegantly proportioned and wearing perfectly applied make-up … The lizard-like woman was as beautiful as the day he'd met her. 

He wasn't sure _why_ the Minister of Education was _here_ , unless the meeting was simply comprised of which administrators had been awake when it began. 

The Bog King cleared his throat. All three of them jumped. His gut gave a familiar guilty spasm when Mavis edged away from him. 

"Your Majesty," Rocco greeted him. "We were just debating whether it would be possible or advisable to use the spoiled food as hunting bait." 

"We _have_ a revised ration plan that should let us stretch the current food supply over a three-week period." Cole held up a chart, heavily annotated and marked up in three distinct styles of handwriting. "That should give us time to gather eggs and hunt _safely_." He and Mavis gave each other poisonous looks. 

"We don't need to worry about disrupting the raccoons' breeding season, considering how long it lasts and how many there are. A half-dozen large raccoons would extend our food supply to nearly two months without denting their population." 

"And if we bait a trap for a raccoon, what's to stop a _bear_ from taking the bait instead?" 

"Forgive me for assuming goblins would have the sense _not to attack a bear_! Even if one did take the bait, it would still technically be no loss; the proposed bait is _not food anymore_ , remember? If we can get a raccoon or three before any bears come sniffing around, that's still a net gain." 

"Stop implying I don't know how to do my job!" 

"Stop refusing to listen to reason!" 

" _Both_ of you, stop arguing!" Rocco snapped. 

Rocco didn't snap. Rocco was calm and patient and reasonable and unflappable. Bog couldn't remember the last time Rocco had shouted – actually, yes, he could. Rocco always shouted at Bog whenever Bog appeared for treatment after getting a new hole in his wings. _If you want to keep your wings, you have to be more careful with them! At this rate you'll lose an arm next!_

The King refocused his attention on the new ration plan. Every goblin would be hungry for some time, but if the notes in the margin listing census data were accurate – he'd have to double-check that – no one should starve. 

He could see the beginning of Mavis and Cole's debate on the paper. Bits had been scribbled over, crossed out, revised, and heavily annotated. There were a few streaks of ink suggesting the paper had been pulled away from someone even as they wrote. The most intensely written-over sections were – _ah, that was why she was here_ – determining how much food should be sent to the schools. 

The Dark Forest had a public school system. All children between certain ages had to attend. In addition to education – literacy, mathematics for basic finances and physics, nutrition, teamwork, laws, history, things like that – the schools provided a daily meal for their students. 

"We might be able to revise this plan in a few days," said Bog, "depending on whether the Fairy Kingdom is willing and able to trade food and how quickly arrangements can be made." He gave Cole a sharp look when Cole made a soft, derisive noise. "I see no reason not to make use of what's now inedible to increase the amount of food we have." Bog narrowed his eyes at Cole, daring the smaller goblin to defy him. "I expect you to arrange hunting parties." 

"… Yes, Your Majesty." 

"You know where the armory is." 

Cole nodded and took the hint that he was dismissed. 

"I'll go … help the archivists sort through the library books that have been recovered." Mavis left quickly as well, keeping her distance from the king when she walked past him. The two of them had avoided each other for years, ever since Bog had _ruined everything with that blasted potion and his stupid, delusional, impulsive not-even-a-plan_ …

"I'll take that." Rocco tugged lightly at the paper Bog was still holding. "Make sure it gets copied out legibly and distributed. And if you're willing, Sire, I have a list of medicinal plants that need more sunlight to grow than we usually have, so you might ask the fay if they're willing to trade those for shade-loving plants we have excess of." 

"What? Oh. Yes. Good idea." The Bog King traded papers with his Royal Physician without looking down. He did look down when Rocco cleared his throat pointedly. Only after looking away did he realize he'd been staring at Mavis. 

"Is your mother alright?" Rocco asked. "I've been told at least four versions of her being trapped when the castle fell." 

"She's fine." 

"Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine." 

"Stuff, Thang, Phyton, Sorrel, Grub?" 

"All fine." 

"And why did no one see fit to wake me before you left the forest? I can't assess or treat an injury if I'm not there." 

"I … didn't think to send anyone," Bog admitted. Rocco folded his long, skinny arms and frowned. 

"When's the last time you slept?" 

"Earlier today," said Bog, technically honestly. Rocco made a low grunting sound and patted the Bog King on the knee. Like Griselda, the physician could usually get away with trying to tell Bog what to do. 

He did so now. 

"Nap before you head back over there. I've heard fairies are diurnal."

* * *

Dawn felt, overall, that she'd been having a productive day. 

She felt she'd made a good impression on Thang, the Bog King's vizier or valet or … whatever it was that Thang was. She hadn't asked him that, being more curious about what a typical goblin childhood was like. If diplomacy went as well as she was sure Marianne was hoping, maybe they could introduce some goblin and fay children to each other. Dawn and Thang had established that they would have at least a few games in common. 

The Bog King himself hadn't been a very eager conversationalist, which might have been because Dawn had woken him up. And then she'd embarrassed herself with how surprised she'd been to confirm he could read. It had never occurred to Dawn that a goblin might know how to do that. But at least she'd established, sort of, that he was interested in Marianne. Her big sister wouldn't be flying straight from one heartbreak into another. 

While Marianne and King Dagda were in a Council meeting, Dawn had talked with Griselda about the typical goblin diet and made arrangements with the kitchens to accommodate their guests. Fairies and sprites didn't eat meat, so the kitchens of the Fairy Castle were only prepared to serve vegetarians; since goblins, like elves and brownies, were omnivores, Dawn had made a brief visit to the nearby village to set up meat deliveries from a butcher, and temporarily hire a few new cooks who would actually know how to prepare meat. She was proud of herself for not shuddering too much during those conversations. 

Dawn couldn't call the talk with her father productive, but it was important for them to have that talk. Now they both knew why the other was upset, so they could have a proper conversation later to clear the air between them. She hadn't been thinking about that at the time, only wanting to vent the frustration that had been building in her since learning _he'd completely ignored her and sent an army when she'd specifically said not to_ , but her father had pointed out the entirely legitimate reasons he'd had to worry about her and Marianne's safety. Dawn was calm enough now to accept that he had made the best decision he could with the situation as he knew it. 

She felt bad about waking Marianne up. Dawn had been worried she might be having a nightmare. Was it still a nightmare if the person was sleeping during the day? In any case, Marianne had seemed distressed when Dawn woke her. Once she was fully awake, the sisters had had a good talk. Dawn still thought Marianne should let Bog know her feelings for him and interest in him hadn't changed. If Marianne stopped acting like she liked Bog, he might assume she didn't like him anymore, and then how could they date? At least Marianne was open to the idea of spending time with Bog socially. Dawn could work on getting them to flirt once she had them in the same room. 

Now Dawn was headed for the stables, a picnic basket on her arm. 

"Hey, Lizzie. Hi, Chipper," she called softly from the door. "You two getting along?" 

"They've been ignoring each other, your highness," reported a stable hand. 

"Better than fighting," Dawn replied with an optimistic shrug. Two large heads were peeking over the doors of their stalls. Dawn put down the basket and stood between them, scratching under Lizzie's chin and petting Chipper's nose. The lizard nuzzled her, and the squirrel made a happy chittering noise. 

Dawn still had mixed feelings about Lizzie. She remembered with terrifying clarity how close the beast had come to eating her and Sunny, more than once. She pitied the creature for being suddenly magically compelled to act against her nature, even if the fairy was grateful to the imp for saving them. Dawn also wasn't totally sure what it meant for the lizard to be in love. Lizzie's behaviour seemed more like the love of an intelligent and loyal pet – but was it romantic, and Dawn was just interpreting it as non-romantic to make herself more comfortable with the idea, and because Lizzie wasn't able to sing love songs at Sunny and Dawn? 

In any case, Dawn had decided last night that, until and unless it wore off, the love potion influencing Lizzie's mind meant that Dawn and Sunny had an obligation to care for her. Sunny had agreed. 

"Lizzie, this is Larkspur, and this is Thimble." She kept her voice carefully level and tensed just a bit when the lizard sniffed at the sprites. "They're very important to me and one or both of them will be with me most of the time." They both darted backwards in mid-air when Lizzie tried to lick them. She made a sad noise and licked Dawn's cheek instead. "So don't eat them, okay? Sprites are off-limits." Lizzie made an agreeable rumble. 

How smart was the lizard? She seemed to understand everything said to or around her …

"See you later, Chipper. Lizzie and I are going out for a while." Dawn hugged the squirrel's snout, then opened the gate of the lizard's stall. "Want to go see Sunny?" Lizzie bounced with excitement. 

* * *

A fairy often drew attention in the elf village. Dawn was there often enough that she wasn't much of spectacle anymore. But with a lizard following her, walking around the outer boundaries of town instead of trying to ease through the streets, she was attracting an even bigger crowd of curious gawkers than she had the first time Marianne had brought her 'adventuring' in the village. 

She had to leave Lizzie behind, guarding the basket, while Dawn flew in to find Sunny. Her handmaidens stuck close to her. She landed gracefully at Sunny's door and neatened her hair a bit before knocking. 

"Good evening, Hector!" she chirruped when his father was the one who answered. 

" _Princess_?" 

"Is Sunny home?" 

"Um, yes – Your Highness, I swear to you, his mother and I had _no_ idea our son would –"

"The love potion? I've forgiven him already; let's not keep bringing it up. Sunny!" Dawn beamed when she saw him and his mother. "I can come back some other time if I'm interrupting a family get-together –"

"No, it's okay!" he insisted. "Mom and Dad just wanted to know … you know. About last night. So I told them." 

He quailed when his parents glared at him. Dawn grit her teeth behind her smile. She wouldn't tell anyone else that they didn't the have right to be upset with Sunny, but she didn't like seeing people mad at her friend. 

"Want to go have a sunset picnic?" 

That startled all three elves, and probably most of the eavesdroppers Dawn was sure lurked just out of her sight. 

"A _chaperoned_ sunset picnic," Thimble clarified, floating quite near Sunny's face and glaring at him. 

"Um … okay?" 

"I thought it would be romantic." If Dawn's voice was a little too bright to be natural, no one commented. 

* * *

Dawn had packed honey scones and berry tarts and petal salad for herself and Sunny, tinier versions of each for the sprites, and mealworms for Lizzie. 

"When you said we could try going on a date … I didn't think you meant, you know, today." Sunny's voice was awed. Any doubt this was a date vanished when Dawn used the word 'romantic'. 

"It was an impulse decision," Dawn admitted. "I didn't think we'd have time for a few days, maybe a week, but … I wanted to see you." 

She put her arm around his shoulders. They were sitting against Lizzie's side, the Forest behind them, the Fairy Kingdom spread out before them and drenched in the honeyed glow of sunset. Larkspur and Thimble were in the circle made by Lizzie's resting tail, keeping an eye on the princess and her companion, but maintaining a respectful distance. Sunny reached for her other hand and squeezed it. 

"I'm glad. This is nice." 

"Yeah." She leaned her head against his and shut her eyes for a moment. Dawn opened her mouth, not sure what she was about to say, and a song popped out. "From the first hello you gave to me, I've done nothing else but smile." 

"Really?" Sunny's face lit up and did full justice to his name. 

"And I know you're in a hurry, but it's gonna take a while. So forgive me if we go slow –"

"Trust me, I understand." 

"But there's something I think you should know …" Dawn had the distinct feeling she was skipping something, but the song just _felt_ like it should be sung _this_ way. "Don't push me in too deep. I've always been the fool who rushes in." 

"I know," Sunny harmonized, some amusement in his voice, but never mocking. "You've got to take the pieces one by one, before you've got anything." He frowned at his own lyrics. "What was that supposed to mean?" 

"So forgive me if we take time, but there's something that's been on my mind." Dawn paused here. Sunny squeezed her hand again. 

"There'll be times when I'm mistaken," he conceded melodiously. "Again. And there'll be times when we're gonna fight. But you needn't doubt, we can work it out, and in time we'll get it right." 

"From the first hello …" Thimble and Larkspur chorused.

"I'm going as fast as I can. Please don't make me rush. This feeling's coming on way too fast," Dawn admitted. "I'll tell you all of the things that you'll never forget. But I'm not ready … to say 'I love you' yet."

There was a sound like flutes, playing the closing bars.

"Hey," Sunny reminded her, letting go of her hand and pushing her shoulder playfully. "It's still our first date. No pressure."


	17. Night

It was dark when Dawn got back to the castle. Larkspur and Thimble were both yawning and occasionally drifting off-course as they floated along beside her. The sprites had both declined the option of riding on her shoulders or in the picnic basket, though Larkspur seemed to be reconsidering it. She was hovering closer to Dawn than Thimble was.

Dawn returned Lizzie to the stable and lingered there for a while. She made small talk with the staff there and had one-sided conversations with the animals. She went into Chipper's stall and gave the squirrel's fur a thorough brushing, and promised to take them both out for a run sometime tomorrow. With Roland imprisoned, Chipper wouldn't be getting nearly as much exercise as he was accustomed to.

Rather than flying straight to her room and going in through the window, Dawn entered the castle through the main doors. Plenty of people had seen her leave earlier, and considering the tension still lingering in the air, it was important that people knew she had come back. Larkspur was perched on her shoulder now.

The fairy and two sprites yawned in unison.

"Evening, your highness!"

Dawn jumped at the bright, loud voice. Her wings flared for a moment. She'd had a few quiet exchanges of that nature since getting home – _"good evening, Princess." "Good evening,"_ – but it was a rare fay who was so cheerily boisterous after sunset.

Turning around, Dawn confirmed the greeting hadn't come from a fay at all, but one of their goblin guests.

"Good evening," she returned politely. Dawn searched her memory for the right name.

This goblin was grey with vibrant green markings, and a face like a tiny armadillo.

"Phyton, your highness." He or she bowed. Dawn hid a wince – had she been that obvious? – and failed to muffle a yawn. Phyton's head tilted to the side, the lower ear going up, and their nose started curling and uncurling.

"Are you alright, Princess?"

"Fine … just a little tired. It's been a long couple of days."

The goblin winced and reached up to pat Dawn's hand.

"I've had to stay up all day, sometimes, too. It's exhausting," they said in a commiserating voice.

"Oh, no, it's not the all-day thing; I'm usually awake during the day. There's just been a lot to do." _And most of it hasn't been very much fun._

Phyton still had their head tilted in what Dawn guessed was puzzlement, but shrugged and bowed a little.

"Well … sleep well, I suppose. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

It was pitch dark when Marianne woke up. She had to blink a few times to be sure her eyes were open.

At first, she didn't know where she was. Her wings and back hurt, and one of her knees throbbed. The bed she was on wasn't hers. It didn't feel or smell like a rose, or even a flower –

_Mushroom._

_Like the mushroom bed in the cell in the dungeon in the Dark Forest._

_That was why it was so dark and why she was hurt, she was a prisoner, they'd caught her at the border, she'd been kidnapped and they'd left her alone in the dark and she was trapped and it was going to cave in and she would die all alone in a tiny filthy hole and when they found her body they would eat her –_

_Her sword, where was it, she needed her sword –_

Marianne gasped for air but it didn't feel like any of it was actually reaching her lungs. She inhaled harder, sucking in desperately – _air, no air, she was trapped and she'd never fly again – she couldn't see the walls, couldn't tell if they were closing in on her – she needed to see, she needed to fly, needed her sword, needed to fight her way out, get out, out –_

She pushed herself to her feet and fumbled around for anything she could use as a weapon. But there wasn't enough air, she was trying to breathe in and there was nothing, she could feel her pulse, the only things she could hear were her own heartbeat and gasping –

She touched her scabbard and felt air flood into her, making her dizzy. _Okay, she had her weapon –_ Marianne ran her hands up the scabbard to confirm her sword was still there, still sheathed – _she was going to be okay, she could fight her way out._

Her eyes were adjusting to the dark. Marianne looked around her cell –

_This isn't a cell._

She was in the hospital wing. Marianne sat back down on the bed with a breathless laugh. She was safe, she was home, she – she really should open her wings back up, they were still healing …

Marianne walked over to the shuttered lantern on the wall and lifted one of side panels, letting a beam of light into the room. She wasn't inclined to re-experience that panic if she woke up again tonight.

At least she hadn't had a true flashback this time.

Unexpected darkness was nearly as bad as the border, although neither were as embarrassing as the few times pink flowers has triggered that awful memory.

Marianne lay back down, opened her wings, and breathed slow and deep. She kept the hilt of her sword in her hand.

_Bog would be so hurt if he knew how badly his home scares me …_

He'd understand, she was sure, and if he wouldn't then at least she'd know how unsympathetic he was and would heed that warning. After her experiences, it wasn't as though Marianne was just reacting out of an unthinking fear grown from stories and rumours.

 _You don't have to be scared of the Dark Forest anymore,_ she reminded herself. Repeating that might not do any good at convincing her subconscious, but it was worth a try.

She fixed her gaze on the remains of the dark flower. Zinnia had coaxed the petals out of Marianne's tangled hair and gathered them into a dish meant for potpourri, which now rested on the little table from which her sword had been hung. It didn't seem to have much of a scent, but the sight of it made her smile.

Now that she was calm, Marianne remembered why she'd woken up in the first place. She needed to pee.

With a sigh, Marianne got back off the bed.

* * *

There were four proposed sites for the new Goblin Castle.

A series of caves by the river that marked the Dark Forest's northern border would be easily defensible and had the advantage of a close water source, but the correlated disadvantage of flood risk. They were connected by a long, low tunnel to the glow worm cavern Bog had shown to Marianne. One of the scouts suggested that the glow worms could be coaxed into the rest of the caves for lighting.

An abandoned termite mound further east, the termites having been eaten last spring, would need severe reconstruction and reinforcement to keep it from caving in, but was quite near the Cold Cache and several towns.

An elm tree near the centre of the woods had been struck and petrified by lightning a few years back, just as the old castle had been, and there had already been some talk about hollowing it out to use for something, although nothing had been done to it yet.

Another tree, a sugar maple at the southwest border, was already hollowed out. Bog had dismissed that option immediately; that tree was home to a colony of bats. Bats might be competition while hunting insects, and a danger to any goblin in the air whether they used their own wings or a dragonfly's, but they were also nearly impossible to drive away for good. Besides, when bats were the prey instead of the hunters, they were delicious.

The bats in the southwest nearly ruled out the northern caves as an option, on the grounds that bats generally preferred caves to trees, but the leader of that scout team pointed out that the caves didn't have any high entrances; the bats would have to crawl out on the forest floor before taking off, and land to get back inside.

Bog took a copy of the notes about each location and rolled it into a scroll to bring back to the Fairy Kingdom with him.

"Your Majesty." Portia approached him again, her expression less stern than last time.

She looked – almost amused? No, she couldn't be. Captain Portia was always serious on-duty.

But the way her lips were curling did bear a stronger resemblance to a smile than it did to any other expression.

"Captain?"

"I've been approached by several guards, and castle staff, and other citizens, and they all seem to have the same question."

"What is that?" asked Bog warily.

"Is it true you've overturned your ban on love and romance in the Dark Forest?"

If Bog had been drinking anything, he would have spat it out.

"I – I suppose I –" He cleared his throat, and stood up straight, and cleared his throat again, then cracked his neck for good measure. "The ban has not been officially overturned yet. But it will be."

"That's a relief. It's been rather difficult to enforce a ban on something that occurs inside of people's minds. Or in their hearts, or as an intangible but powerful connection between their souls, depending on how philosophical one wants to be about it."

Bog blinked at her, biting back the urge to say, _"What?"_


	18. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started thinking about Roland’s three minions. We don’t really know anything about them, even their names, and they had the same voice actor. They are listed in the end credits as ‘Fairy Cronies – Robbie Daymond’. Common fanon has it that they are triplets, which can work, but then I had this idea and rolled with it.

Lord Douglas was ashamed at how long it took to convince himself to visit the dungeons. Yes, the kingdom was in an uproar; yes, he had responsibilities and duties to attend; yes, going to see his boys might implicate him as having involvement in their actions; but his boys needed him.

The fairy lord set aside his copy of the Council Minutes decisively and swept out of the study that his rank allowed him to hold inside the castle, despite not living there. His expression was stern behind his short, neatly-trimmed beard. His dull green, leaf-like wings hung behind him and twitched with each step he took.

Nowadays, people tended to assume his boys – Dwayne, Aiden and Edwin – were triplets. Lord Douglas had lost his wife, brother, and sister-in-law during the Wing-Rot Plague, and taken in his orphaned nephews in the aftermath. The twins, like Dwayne, had taken after their father in appearance, giving the boys a strong resemblance to each other. When they were in full armour, the only visible differences between them were the colour of their eyes and the shade of their wings.

Edwin and Aiden were distant cousins of Sir Roland. Their mother and his shared a great-grandparent. As an uncle and father-figure, Lord Douglas had no objection to them staying friendly with their cousin from the other side of the family, or to his own son joining in.

Roland's charm and charisma naturally made him the leader of the four of them, but he'd always been generous about it. When Roland had an idea, Lord Douglas could guarantee his boys would be tripping over each other with excitement to make it happen, delighted to be included. They'd had so much fun together as children.

When Roland took an interest in the boys' training, they'd been granted extra practise time and come to the attention of the royal family. They had all three advanced to the Earth Guard, the brown armour marking them as next in status to the silver-armoured Sky Guard.

When Roland became officially engaged to the Crown Princess, his association with the boys had brought their family a step higher in the ranks of nobility. As a politician, Lord Douglas had no objection to his boys being close to the future king.

But now …

Now his boys, his _sons_ , were in trouble because of Roland. They'd been pulled into danger and nearly killed and were now locked in the dungeon and accused of treason. Princess Marianne was talking about making peace with the goblins ( _with goblins! Of all creatures_ ) and there was a distinct chance those beasts would demand a far harsher punishment than his boys deserved.

Lord Douglas was not so self-absorbed as to deny any punishment was warranted. His boys had been reckless and blinded by their cousin's natural leadership, and let him lead them into harm's way. They'd trapped themselves in a collapsing building at his suggestion! Such foolishness should certainly be met with discipline.

Foolish, yes, that was the word for them, but certainly not _treasonous_. They'd only been helping their cousin in his courtship; helping to rescue the Crown Princess after those animals had stolen her away; protecting their people and their kingdom and the royal family. Poor Edwin had suffered nightmares about the Dark Forest all his life; no one would have blamed him for staying behind last night, and Lord Douglas was proud of his adopted son's bravery.

How were they to know that their once-future king had become so desperate and ambitious that he would try to coerce her highness into marriage?

Lord Douglas shook his head. Whatever punishment King Dagda had in mind for Roland would be well deserved.

Love potion! It was one thing to use it in an arranged marriage, to help the couple transition into married life with a near-stranger. He and his darling wife had each taken a small dose as part of their wedding, and gotten along splendidly until the devastating day he'd lost her.

But to use the potion as an advantage in courtship? Outrageous! Where had Roland gotten _that_ idea?

Lord Douglas almost couldn't blame the _elf_ for resorting to such measures; obviously the elf recognized that any fairy, let alone a princess, was so far out of his social class that only a potion could draw her attention his way. It was pitiable. Wrong, but in a way Lord Douglas could feel sorry for, rather than a way that filled him with indignant fury.

Perhaps that was why the princesses insisted the elf not be too severely punished. Having been publicly rejected by Princess Dawn must have broken the little fellow's heart.

But Roland, the former _Sir_ Roland, had every advantage a fairy could wish in winning back Princess Marianne after whatever misunderstanding had soured her temper. He'd still been permitted to ride the Royal Squirrel, and to wear the green armour normally reserved for the heads of noble houses. He was titled, handsome, well-spoken, admired, and had support from the entire Court and Council in winning back the Crown Princess' favour, even the support of King Dagda himself! To have tossed that all aside so _impulsively_ …

On the other hand, perhaps that wasn't entirely shocking. Roland had many excellent qualities, but he wasn't well-known for his patience. That year of rejection must have weighed heavily on him.

Yes, thinking it over, Lord Douglas couldn't entirely blame the young knight for wanting to shake that weight off and win the Princess back in one fell swoop.

He still wasn't happy about his boys being put in danger, though.

The steps down to the dungeon were narrower than other staircases in the castle, to be more easily blocked if a prisoner escaped. Lord Douglas shuddered. He pushed down the urge to turn back; he'd already left his boys down there for a day and a night. He needed to see them.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a _goblin_ was guarding the door. He did jump when it spoke, using a stick to block the entrance.

"Name and purpose?"

"Lord Douglas." He drew himself up and eyed the creature sternly. "I'm here to see my sons."

The goblin's eyes narrowed a bit, which was ironically comforting, since it meant less showed of that eerie yellow sclera.

"Which ones are yours?"

Lord Douglas opened his wings a little. It was a reflexive gesture. Most fairies caught the family resemblance.

"Aiden, Edwin and Dwayne."

The goblin lowered the stick and opened the door without actually looking away from the fairy. A crooning love song – _was that Roland's voice?_ – wafted out. The goblin winced.

"Visitor for the prisoners!" it called. "A 'lord Douglas' visiting Aiden, Edwin and Dwayne. Says he's their father."

A fairy guard came to meet him, looking apologetic. Lord Douglas was shown to the cells.

They had been lined up so the prisoners couldn't see each other. There was only one row of cells, along the inner edge of a hallway that made a complete loop around the base of the castle. There were guard posts on the other side. The stone was reinforced with metal and magic, for strength and to prevent vibration carry-through, so prisoners couldn't secretly communicate by tapping the walls or pipes. A few cells were lined with wood, as a precaution against imprisoned fairies or sprites whose magic allowed them to affect stone or metal.

The first cell Lord Douglas was escorted past was wood-lined, open, and filled with goblins, piled up together and snoring. He shuddered again and edged away.

"They insisted on staying," the guard said quietly. "Considering what Roland did, I can't say I blame them."

They reached a cell with an actual prisoner in it.

"DAD!"

Edwin got off the cot and rushed to the bars. His head was bandaged and half his armour was gone. He was tied up awkwardly, with one arm free but the other twisted behind his back over his wings. Lord Douglas moved closer, wanting to touch his adopted son and reassure himself that the boy was alright.

Again, a goblin blocked him with a stick.

"Visitors keep out of arm's reach of the cells," it recited.

That was actually a sensible rule, limiting the chances of hostage-taking or smuggled goods, but the worried parent didn't want to listen. It took the fairy guard's hand pulling back on his shoulder to remind him he was being watched, and every move could be seen as suspicious. If he was going to convince the king that his boys weren't treasonous, he could not risk having King Dagda wrongfully suspect _him_ of treason.

"Edwin, are you alright? Are your brothers alright?"

"I'm fine – I think – I don't know. I just woke up an hour ago. They said," gesturing between the guard and the goblin, "we got trapped inside when we took down the goblins' castle –"

"And nearly killed yourselves and our royal family and both your princesses," the goblin inserted.

"Snout," said a goblin down the hall in a warning tone.

"You can't deny they did, Snug."

"Yeah, but the king'll be mad if you pick a fight while he's trying to make nice."

"Hmph."

"Edwin's the first to wake up," the guard told Lord Douglas. "Of your sons, I mean. Roland woke up yesterday. We had physicians check each of them, but there's only so much they can tell when someone's unconscious. We have two on call for when the – prisoners," said hastily and in a low voice, "wake up. We untied one arm each so they can feed themselves and … _suchlike_ , but unless the king says otherwise, they'll have to stay restrained."

"I'd like to remain down here until they're all awake, to assess their well-being for myself."

"Of course, your lordship."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snout and Snug’s names come from the character list of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Because of course.
> 
> Dwayne was the mook who suggested Roland use love potion – he knew his own parents used it and had a happy marriage, so he didn’t see anything wrong with it. No one besides those three and Roland himself know the idea came from Dwayne. Edwin was the one who was particularly creeped out by the Forest and its inhabitants; “It’s looking at me!” Aiden’s the other one.
> 
> Here’s a quick script of who I think is who in the movie, using the names I gave them –
> 
>  **Edwin** : Whoa!  
>  **Dwayne** : Marianne slammed _him_ pretty good!  
>  **Aiden** : Well, so much for being king.  
>  **Roland** : You think I _can’t_ be king?  
>  **All Three** : King Roland!  
>  **Aiden** : But, uh, wouldn’t he have to marry Marianne?  
>  **Dwayne** : Yes, and he will. All we have to do is get some of that "love potion".  
>  **Roland** : You saying _**I**_ need a love potion?!  
>  **Edwin** : No, no! Just kidding!  
>  **Aiden** : It was just a joke! We’ve gotta go …  
>  **Dwayne** : Just kidding, Boss!
> 
> Sorted by wing-colour and what little we can see of their faces, Aiden has the brightest wings, as well as light brown hair and green eyes; Dwayne has dull-green wings, yellow hair, and blue eyes; and Edwin has wings that are technically green but almost brown, as well as brown or black hair and brown eyes.


	19. Acquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard to make this be Chapter Twenty. I wanted there to be a ten-chapter gap between the last time Bog and Marianne saw each other and when they met again, to emphasize how even though they like each other, they have other things to do and aren't going to spend every waking second in each other's presence.
> 
> Then I remembered their last interaction was a teensy snippet at the very start of Chapter Nine, and thus this _was_ ten chapters later.
> 
> That said, not much time has passed. It's been maybe 24 hours, give or take.

"Bog! You're back!"

Her open wings snapped up like a Venus flytrap. Marianne propped herself up on her elbows and forearms so she could face him. She smiled at him so brightly that, even though she'd said his name, Bog almost turned around to see who she was looking at. She was still wearing the comfrey eyepatch he'd made for her.

"Um … yes. Hello." He sat on the stool by her toadstool bed. The infirmary was much more practically furnished, in his opinion, than the rest of the castle. Bog smiled nervously.

"I was wondering, which of your people do you think would make the best ambassador?"

"What?"

"Ambassador! You know, to represent the Dark Forest in the Fairy Kingdom," Marianne said eagerly. "It would help us learn more about each other and get used to working together. Obviously I'm hoping you'll spend time here too, but I know you've got responsibilities and I won't ask you to neglect your kingdom for mine. An ambassador would be part of our council and speak on your behalf."

"I'd have to think about it," Bog stalled. "I'll come up with a few candidates. Maybe they could meet your council to see who gets along best before I pick one."

His first thought was to appoint Stuff. She was his go-to delegate whenever he was too busy to handle something himself. But by that same virtue, she would be the worst choice – she was indispensable in her current role.

"That's a good idea. Do you think maybe you could have a few options by the end of the week?" Marianne's cheeks became a darker shade of pink. "I sort-of already told the Council we'd have a goblin representative join us then. I know I should have discussed it with you first, since they'll be your subject, but it can take a while to convince the Council of anything and I wanted to get the idea in their heads while they were paying attention."

"I respect your decisiveness." Bog drummed his fingers against his staff. "If your council is anything like the Forest Elders, the best way to get them to follow your plan is to convince them it's already in motion."

"Would you be open to having an ambassador or two from my kingdom to yours?" asked Marianne. "I mean, hypothetically, once my wings heal, I can do most of it, but it would be good to have someone else as well."

"Perhaps we can decide who's best suited for that during reconstruction." Bog cleared his throat. Was that a good segue …? "We can begin discussing trade arrangements now, between the two of us. Most of our stored food was destroyed along with the castle."

Marianne inhaled sharply and her wings shuddered.

"We have food. I can get you food. Um, what exactly do goblins eat?"

"Meat, plants, fungi … non-sentient, of course."

"Meat," she repeated in a whisper, looking a little ill. She met his gaze and set her jaw. "I'll get our records for harvests and livestock and see how much we can send to the Forest without putting ourselves at risk of starving. Fuchsia, could you get those for me?"

"Yes, Princess." A sprite floated down from the ceiling, startling Bog, who'd thought the colourful floral shapes were decorative lamps.

"Oh, Bog, this is Fuchsia, and up there's Zinnia and Lilac. Girls, this is the Bog King."

The green one circled him. Bog shifted uneasily. They reminded him of Plum's … projections, or whatever those semi-tangible mini-Sugar Plums had been.

"It's nice to meet you," said the green sprite – Zinnia? Bog smiled without baring his teeth and returned the greeting.

"It might take a while tracking down the records," Fuchsia called on her way out the door.

Marianne leaned on one elbow and reached for Bog's hand. She missed by a considerable distance. The eyepatch must have taken her depth perception. Bog moved his hand to hers.

"I'll get you food," she promised. "I won't let your people suffer because of Roland."

"I trust you."

Bog was surprised at himself, for saying those words out loud and for the fact they were true. He'd done his best to swear off trust as well as love …

A silence fell between them. Marianne rested a bit – that odd propped-up position of hers couldn't have been comfortable – and Bog found himself idly studying her hand, still held in his.

Marianne had five fingers, as Bog did. Her long digits were narrow and smooth. The skin on her hand, like all her skin that he'd seen so far besides her wings, was a uniform creamy pink colour, and a soft texture that reminded him of a new leaf. She had claws, as well, short and rounded at the tips and – he tilted his head to confirm this – _shiny_.

Marianne's hands were strangely beautiful.

"I'd ask how you're settling in," she said, "but I get the feeling Dawn's already asked all the little hospitality questions."

"So she's always like that?" Bog could have kicked himself for the implied insult, but luckily Marianne took the question in the spirit in which it was intended.

She laughed.

"Yeah, pretty much. I wasn't kidding when I said she'd get along with your mom." Marianne tilted her head to face him sideways, looking anxious. "How is Griselda? She told me she was fine, but is she really or should she be in the hospital too?"

"Mum never downplays anything." Bog smiled, a bit grimly. "If she were hurt, you would know. The _world_ would know."

"Is that where you got your penchant for drama?"

"My _what_?"

Marianne shrugged as best she could in her current position.

"Drama. You're really expressive and open about how you feel, especially when you're not happy about something, and when we were sparring I noticed you have a knack for showmanship. Plus, you have a tendency to overreact."

Bog wanted to dispute that but couldn't think of a single piece of evidence for a rebuttal. Snapping _'I do not overreact!'_ would, by definition, only prove her point.

Marianne's voice dropped to a loud whisper.

"This is the part where you say, _'I do not overreact'_!"

Bog chuckled, mostly at her impression of his voice.

"Go on, say it," Marianne urged, also chuckling. "I can't spar with weapons for a week or two" – _or longer_ went unsaid – "and I want to at least prove I can hold my own in a battle of wits."

"And if I refuse to –" Bog bit his tongue before he could say _engage_ "– to be baited into combat?"

"Are you afraid of a challenge or insulting my intelligence?"

"Neither. But do you think it's conducive to diplomacy to start a fight during negotiations?"

"Maybe my goal is to keep your interest instead of a peaceful stalemate."

_Oh, she's fun. Wait, was that supposed to be flirtatious?_

"You make bold and risky decisions, princess, and that's plenty interesting. But have you fully considered what to do next, if you reach your goal and find it not to your liking?"

Marianne froze up, and then conceded, "Point to you. I hadn't thought much about the possibility that we could get to know each other and I wouldn't like you."

That froze Bog as well.

_What?_

"I like what I know of you so far," she said. "Apart from threatening people. Even if we don't – if we're never – at the very least we can have a cordial political relationship, and I think we've got a solid foundation to become friends." Marianne said the last part quickly, as though trying to erase the memory of the word _relationship_ from their conversation.

"I like you, too."

Bog had not meant to say that. He'd meant to say practically anything except for that. Why could he not curb his tongue around this woman?

"I – I mean, um." He cleared his throat. "I, I enjoy your company. You're … nice." She raised her eyebrows at him. "And fun! And spirited and tough, and, smart. Even if I am winning the battle of wits."

"Hey, one point does not mean victory! But go on. Tell me what else you like about me."

The smile on the fairy princess' face sent a thrill through the Bog King, equal parts fear and delight. The terror must have shown, because her grin became less predatory and more teasing.

"I'm kidding, Bog. I'm not that vain or that insecure."

She laughed. He laughed with her. She stopped suddenly, with a wince.

"Marianne?"

"Ribs. Don't laugh too hard with a bruised ribcage. It's not fun." She eyed his torso. "Do you even have ribs or is that all exoskeletal?"

"I'm not sure. I've never cut myself open to find out." Bog smiled to show he was just teasing her back. "I _think_ I have a full internal skeleton, like my mother, and the plates just serve as armour."

"And clothing." Marianne's cheeks reddened and she settled back onto the bed, her face to the mushroom cap.

"I would ask how your recovery is progressing," Bog said to her hair, "but I imagine you'll be having that conversation a lot over the next week." _'Is there anything I can do?'_ would be the second-most-obnoxious question to ask, but maybe it would be less annoying to her if he made a specific offer …? "If you like, I could rub your neck." Her wings twitched sharply. "Not now – I mean, unless you want – it's an open offer. You're going to get sore twisting to look at people. Let me know. Anytime."

"Now there's a dangerous offer. I could send someone to wake you from a sound sleep saying I wanted a neck-rub."

"I might complain, but I would still do it. I'll trust you not to abuse the privilege."

She turned to face him again.

"… Thank you."

"It truly never occurred to you to dislike me?"

"I spent the first few hours we knew each other absolutely convinced that you were the greatest person in the history of the world. First impressions can be very influential."

"My first impression was that you were absolutely mad."

"Yeah, I can't really blame you for that." This time her laughter sounded nervous. "I promise, that song was not my usual type of music."

"It was more the – abrupt switch, from trying to kill me to trying to – you know. _That_." Bog scratched the back of his neck. "I, ah, never asked. How long have you been training?" He gestured loosely at her sword.

"Only about a year."

" _What_?"

A single year of training, and she'd been able to fight him to a draw? During a friendly spar when he hadn't been actively intending to hurt her, but still. Bog had been taught basic self-defense almost as soon as he could understand the concept. He'd started weapons training when he was a teenager.

He didn't actually know how old Marianne was …

"I mean, I've tried to learn before," Marianne continued, "but it's considered _inappropriate_ for a princess to _play around with dangerous things_." She snorted. "After all, I could get hurt, or killed – or worse, seriously disfigured."

The mocking lilt of her voice left Bog torn between wanting to escape, change the subject, or reassure her – of what, he didn't know.

"But after I ended things with Roland, I decided I'd never trust anyone again, so of course I had to learn to protect myself." Her tone was less bitter now. "You're actually the first person to spar with me." There was an indignant squeak from overhead. "I mean, the girls try, but with their size, it's more they swarm me and I try to block them."

"Shouldn't your trainer have sparred with you?"

"I'm self-taught."

_WHAT?_

Never mind the shock of her becoming so skilled without anyone to teach her – how could it possibly be seen as _responsible_ to give someone a weapon and not teach them how to wield it?

"What about you? Who trained you?"

"Ah – my parents; the guards; my grandmother might have, if she'd lived long enough."

The former Marsh Queen had been a force to be reckoned with even in her old age. Her mother, the Nettle Queen, had been the first ruler of the Dark Forest to use the Amber Sceptre as a weapon, and Marsh had passed down that technique to her son Pinecone, who taught it to his son Bog.

"Lucky." Marianne's fingertips traced absentminded patterns on the mushroom cap she rested on. "My dad gave up eventually on talking me out of sword training, but he's never been happy about it." She gave him a hopeful look. "We should spar some more, once Caroline lets me out of here."

"I'd like that."

If her sword-fighting abilities on the night they'd met were the result of a year training alone, Bog could hardly wait to see how terrifying Marianne would become training with someone who challenged her.

"What was she like?" Marianne asked, changing the subject. "Your grandmother. If you're okay talking about her."

"The Marsh Queen was … very direct in how she dealt with others. She valued cleverness and efficiency."

She'd also been a great hunter, but he could hardly brag to a _fairy_ about his grandmother's stories of _hunting fairies_ in her youth.

In the days before the fay had established metalwork and started mass-producing steel weapons, every goblin was expected to go on a hunt in the Fairy Kingdom at least once. Elves and brownies were the usual game, sprites being too small to be worth eating if you didn't catch an entire swarm. Fairies were the hardest to catch, making them the greatest prize.

"She, ah, didn't care for fairies much. No interest in international diplomacy. But she was very popular among our subjects."

The Marsh Princess had lost a wing when a fairy she'd flown after had put up more of a fight than she'd expected. She'd still caught it (him or her? Bog didn't know) and kept its wings as a trophy. She never flew again, but she'd revolutionized the field of prosthetics trying to find a way.

"During her reign, she organized and funded hospitals throughout the forest. Mostly to treat injuries from hunting accidents, at first, but they've expanded since. Quarantining and treating illnesses, and such."

If those trophy-wings were dug out of the rubble, Bog should probably turn them over to the Fairy Kingdom for however they disposed of their dead.

"She was … she was respected. Admired."

"Marsh Queen," said Marianne thoughtfully, tapping her bed. "This might sound strange if I'm wrong, but were you named after her?"

"Yeah."

"Do you miss her?"

"Sometimes." Bog shrugged. "We weren't especially close. She died when I was quite young."

Marianne made a soft, sympathetic noise in response to that.

Bog cast about for a new subject of conversation. Something less upsetting and insensitive than asking what had happened to Marianne's mother. There was no sign of a Fairy Queen anywhere in the castle so far.

"I've … noticed … that, in the Fairy Ca– _Kingdom_ , there seems to be some … division, between the fairies and the rest." Okay, so Bog wasn't good at segues. "How did you and your sister end up becoming friends with that elf?"

Her head shot up and she jerked her hand out of his as she gave him an absolutely vicious look.

" _Don't talk about Sunny like that_!"

Bog's wings and spurs rattled. Marianne's glare softened. Her ears slumped and she looked down. She twisted her hands together. One of the sprites – the purple one, Lilac – came down and petted her hair.

"I'm sorry. You're right; this is something that comes up a lot here. I'm trying to fix it. I just … I can't stand it when people – _reduce_ him to his species, like he doesn't matter as a person. But I shouldn't have yelled at you."

" _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have phrased it that way."

As a king and as a goblin, Bog knew the sting of having _who_ he was overshadowed by _what_ he was. As a princess and a fairy, Marianne must have personal experience with those kinds of judgements herself.

Marianne chuckled. "Do you think we'll ever get through a conversation without somebody having to apologize?"

"I'm sure eventually we'll learn how not to offend each other."

"Anyway, I met Sunny when I was a kid. He and Dawn are really close now, but I was the one who met him first. I used to sneak out of the castle a lot, going adventuring, you know."

Bog nodded. "I did same thing. I still do, sometimes."

"I'm pretty sure now that everyone knew; the guards just let me think I was being sneaky. So I was out flying one day, and I saw Sunny run and hide under a leaf. So I dove down and landed beside him, and asked," her voice dropped to a whisper, "like this, 'Are you playing hide and seek?' 'AH!' he said."

Her imitated yelp made Bog jump. Her voice returned to normal volume.

"Then, 'oh, you're not a bird.' Turns out he saw my shadow and was hiding from _me_."

It was easy to picture a skittish elf crouched in a green shadow, jumping it alarm at a sudden voice. Bog chuckled. So did Marianne.

"So I said, 'No, I'm Marianne,' and he said, 'I'm Sunny,' and we did end up playing hide and seek. We've been friends ever since. Then when Dawn learned to fly, I brought her down to the village to meet him, and they've been friends since then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore the idea of Marianne being the one to meet and befriend Sunny first and introduce him to Dawn. I also adore the idea of Bog being named after his grandmother.


	20. Bloviating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly three months of waiting for an update are finally rewarded! With a chapter about Roland. Because I'm EVIL.

“Don’t go changing, to try and please me,” Roland crooned. “You’ve never let me down before. Mm-mm-mmm … Don’t imagine you’re ‘too familiar’, and I don’t see you anymore.”

Technically he and Fleance hadn’t know each other long enough for one to let the other down, but surely a love so pure as their transcended mere time?

“I would not leave you in times of trouble! We never could have come this far. I took the good times; I’ll take the bad times! I love you just the way you are!”

Technically that should have been her line, since Roland was the one locked up, but she was still being shy.

“Don’t go trying some new fashion. Don’t change the colour of your hair. You’ll always have my unspoken passion,” he reassured her, “although I might not seem to care.”

It had taken a moment, after she rushed off, to realize what must have happened. Fleance was overwhelmed at finally meeting someone beautiful, after years in that awful forest where the only pretty face she could see was her own reflection.

Had she ever seen her own reflection? What with how hideous most of them were, maybe goblins didn’t make mirrors, assuming they were even smart enough to know how. Poor Fleance must have had to make do with dewdrops and puddles.

“I don’t want clever conversation. I never want to work that hard. I just want someone I can talk to. I want you just the way you are!”

Now she was lingering just out of his sight. If he just kept singing, eventually she’d be convinced he was real and she’d come out.

But was it really so much to ask her to join him in a duet? Roland’s voice was as gorgeous as the rest of him, of course, but that would be magnified with her undoubtedly sweet voice harmonizing.

“I need to know that you will always be that same old someone that I knew. What will it take, till you believe in me, the way that I believe in you?”

Fleance was shy, Roland reminded himself. He just had to keep singing, keep serenading, so she would know she’d never have to doubt him and she’d be comfortable joining in.

“I said I love you, and that’s forever; and this I promise from my heart – I couldn’t love you any better! I love you just the way you are!”

He twisted his golden hair – the guards knew he was too strong to be constrained against his will, and thought to placate him by unbinding one of his chiseled, muscular arms – and peered hopefully at his cell door. No sign of her. He sighed.

“Wise man say, only fools rush in …”

He knew this song well enough to sing it without thinking, which was useful for keeping a girl charmed when Roland had to reconsider his wooing strategy. (That didn’t happen often, of course, but it was always good to have a backup plan.)

“But I can’t help falling in love with you …”

Ideally he would sing her a song with her name in it, but he didn’t know any with the name _Fleance_. Swapping a girl’s name into a song written with another name was hazardous at best, even for a charmer like Roland who never – okay, maybe once or twice – slipped up and accidentally used the wrong name.

Next best would be a song that mentioned her interests, but he’d have to lure her out for her to tell him what those were. Besides Roland himself, naturally. He could always wax poetic his many good qualities.

“Shall I say, or would it be a sin –?”

Roland kept his emerald eyes on the lock of his cell. She’d touched that lock, before she left; an unspoken promise that she’d come back for him and let him out.

Maybe at nightfall, with the guards tired and not paying attention, she’d return for him and reward his faith in her with a tender kiss before they flew off into the sunset.

“That I can’t help falling in love with you?”

True Love would not be kept apart. He was Roland, Knight of the Fairy Kingdom, the kingdom’s almost-unbelievably handsome future ruler. No woman could resist him, not even one as perfect as Fleance.

And, of course, Fleance was perfect. Who else but the perfect woman could possibly be worthy, not only of his attention, but also of his love?

“Like a river flows surely to the sea …”

Roland was sure, if she would just let him explain it to her, Fleance would understand that he needed to win back and marry Marianne for politics’ sake. He’d reassure his beloved, of course, that Roland would be both swift and subtle about arranging the tragic accident afterwards, to get rid of the rest of the royal family and let Fleance claim her rightful place as his Queen.

“Darling, so it goes: Some things are meant to be …”

Although, if Fleance was okay with waiting a while, Marianne’s accident _could_ wait until after Dagda abdicated. The old man was fond of Roland; it would be a shame to lose an admirer. Dawn would be easy enough to charm into remaining the docile ‘spare to the throne’, next in line after Roland and Fleance’s children. It was really only Marianne who was an obstacle.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too.”

Fleance would look almost as glamourous in a crown as Roland would. The purple gems would complement her shell, just like the gold would match his hair. By colour coordination alone, they were clearly the perfect King and Queen!

“For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Fleance’s eyes were more faceted than any gem, and she had such a lovely complexion. Her charming, pastel, lavender scales were so much more befitting a Fairy Queen than Marianne’s gloomy dark purple wings.

“No, I can’t help falling in love … with you … Lavender blue, dilly-dilly. Lavender green. When I am King, dilly-dilly, I’ll need a Queen …”

Lost in fantasy, Roland didn’t hear one of his guards comment to another, “Make a note. The prisoner’s singing about treason.”


	21. Montage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this thrilling chapter – Marianne and Bog talk about logistics, infrastructure, food, racism, history, biology, and paperwork. Bog also thinks about Marianne being hot.

“How much food does the average goblin eat in a day?”

“There isn’t an average goblin. You’ve seen Brutus and Thang. If they were to split food evenly, Brutus would be half-starved and Thang would … quite possibly explode.”

“But if there are roughly the same number of goblins of each size, we can determine an amount for equal divisions in theory and divide it equitably in practice.”

Bog had moved another hospital bed next to Marianne’s and they had repurposed it as a desk. Crop and livestock reports from the Fairy Kingdom overlapped the Dark Forest’s former and current ration plans, and the revised edition that Bog and Marianne were working on.

“Rocco gave me our latest census data,” Bog thought he remembered. “I – one moment.” He dug through the satchel of paperwork he’d brought back from the Forest that morning, which Stuff had retrieved from the guest suite for him.

No, that was the monthly report on the North River villages, assessing flood risk; that was the descriptive summary and location of each possible new castle site; a half-written decree, amending the Bog King’s previous decree from a ban on love potions and any and all public displays and declarations of romantic love, to only a ban on love potions; the usual papers from the treasury, which Bog had to sign to authorize salary payments for the staff and guards; a progress report from Titus on bat-training …

Naturally, the census packet was at the bottom.

* * *

“I never realized how many edible plants grew in the Dark Forest,” said Marianne. “I would have thought it would be too, well, dark.”

“It’s not that many, in comparison,” Bog acknowledged, looking over the Fairy Kingdom’s crop report again. “Or perhaps there are things we consider edible that you wouldn’t. Do you really eat _buttercups_?”

Marianne flinched.

“ _I_ don’t.”

Bog’s heart jumped and his throat clenched. The only external sign of his panic at possibly saying the wrong thing was a twitch of his fingers and shoulder spurs. He tried for a gentle, sympathetic tone. “Allergies?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

Marianne’s brow furrowed. “Okay? That’s it?”

“Did – did you actually want to talk –?”

“No, it’s just people don’t usually accept that as an answer.” She gave him a little smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

* * *

“You’d have to discuss this directly with the elves and brownies, but, I know when birds come after the crops the farmers try to,” Marianne grimaced, “hunt them, for meat, instead of just chasing them away. If goblins were to help out with that, they might, ah, catch more, and then the meat could be split.”

“A long-term arrangement for mutual benefit.” Bog nodded slowly. “And hopefully, any relative loss of meat for your kingdom would be compensated by relatively greater crops the birds would otherwise have eaten.”

“Like I said, you’d have to talk to the brownies and elves about that. Bird meat is considered … sort of a bonus? Since they aren’t livestock. So birds only get reported to the crown if a lot of crops are lost, or if they’ve started going after people.”

* * *

“How is this paper made?” Bog picked up one of the Fairy Kingdom’s scrolls and held it to the light. “I’ve noticed it’s a different texture than mine.”

“It’s grass. A grass stalk is cut into thin ribbons and woven together, and then left in the sun until the colour fades.” Marianne shrugged as best she could while lying down. “I mean, there’s a whole process to soften and preserve it, but that’s the basics. Fabric is made in a pretty similar way if we’re not just using whole petals. How’s your paper made?”

“We used to use leaves or harvest birch-back, but for the last …” Bog tried to recall what he’d been taught, but had to give up and estimate, “two or three hundred years, we’ve harvested dead tree branches and ground the wood to pulp, then poured that into a pan and let it dry as a flat sheet. I don’t know the details either, but I do know old paper can be added to the pulp so it doesn’t take as much wood anymore.”

“That’s really neat.”

* * *

“Wait, so, _officially_ , goblins don’t have different races? You’re all just … goblins?”

“Only on paper,” Bog admitted. “After the city-states began allying and merging into one kingdom, interracial marriages were encouraged to keep the Forest from dividing back up. In practice, for example, I’m still insectoid,” he flexed his wings, “and Mum’s still a horned burrower. But it’s easier to collect census data based on things like height and weight and diet and whether you have scales or a slime coat or both, rather than having to recite your entire family tree and which traits you inherited from each branch.”

“I … guess that makes sense.” Marianne tapped her chin with her quill. “We don’t have that many pixies on this side of the border, but when they happen, they’re usually classed with their mother’s race.”

“Pixies?”

“You know, hybrids. Between the fay races.”

“You’re really _that_ divided here? You have a _word_ for –?” Bog shook his head.

“Like I said, they’re usually listed as the same race as their mother. Didn’t you ever wonder why Plum was called the Sugar Plum _Fairy_ when she doesn’t have legs or wings?”

“No.”

Marianne unrolled and skimmed the old Fairy Kingdom census scroll she’d sent for earlier; from the year before Bog had banned love potions and imprisoned their brewer. Shortly before he’d come to see her, Marianne had asked for any documentation they had about Sugar Plum. The woman had essentially vanished sometime between Marianne’s departure from the Dark Forest and Bog’s arrival in the Fairy Kingdom, and the princess wanted to make an educated guess about where Plum might go and what she might do with her newfound freedom.

“She’s a pixie; her mother was a fairy and her father was a sprite. It says here her original name was Aura, but she adopted the name Sugar Plum when she came of age. I guess she wanted a traditional sprite name to honour both sides of her heritage?”

* * *

“So the Fairy Kingdom’s royalty has always followed family lines?”

“About as far back as it’s been called the Fairy Kingdom. We don’t have many records surviving from before then, so it’s hard to be sure what the government was like or if we even had one. Supposedly we were a vassal state of the Dark Forest at one point …”

Marianne’s lower lip caught under her teeth. Bog knew plenty of goblins with blunt teeth, including his mother, but it kept catching him off-guard that Marianne didn’t have fangs.

“I don’t suppose _your_ kingdom would have records of that?” she asked him. “It’s probably grim reading, but, I’m curious.”

“Ah, there’s some oral history, actually; has to do with how my family ended up royalty …” Bog shifted uncertainly. Marianne was right, this was a grim topic. It would likely darken her opinion of him considerably, and of goblins as a whole.

On the other hand, disclosure was important, so they could all enter diplomacy clear-eyed.

“The throne was once passed down through combat. If you could defeat the last king or queen, you claimed their title. Usually the old king or queen was killed, but once in a while they were kept alive as an adviser – which usually ended with the new king or queen assassinated and the old one back in charge.”

Marianne winced. Bog looked at his hands and kept talking.

“Eventually a couple, Thunder and Lightning, took the throne together. No one could beat them as a team, and since that’s how they beat the last queen, they’d have to be defeated together. They, ah, both switched sexes regularly, so the ‘king’ and ‘queen’ titles never really stuck to either of them –”

“Goblins can do that?”

“Some of us. Mostly the amphibious ones. Anyway, Lightning and Thunder each bore a few children and they adopted a few more and they both lived to old age. Then famine struck and they both died. One of their kids – insectoid girl, orange-brown shell like autumn leaves and golden eyes like an owl, so the stories say – she said she wouldn’t let Famine be named ruler of the Forest, and if anyone thought they were worthy of her parents’ throne they could try to claim it from her.”

“And she was your ancestor?”

“There may have been a few more adoptions interrupting the bloodline, but legally yes.” Bog cleared his throat. “So, then, she, ah, conquered the Fairy Kingdom. The fays had to, to send a certain number … into the Forest every season, to –” He cleared his throat again, more ominously.

 _To be killed. To be eaten. To be_ harvested _like livestock._

Marianne shivered. “She must have been seen as a hero. Ending the famine like that.” She sounded like she was about to vomit.

“No one wanted to challenge her, or at least there’s no record of anyone trying. Eventually the Amber Queen died and her son took over. A few generations later, the fays rebelled and the tithes stopped, but the famine was over by then.” Though goblins had continued to _hunt_ fays in any case, until Bog’s father had put a stop to it.

“That’s probably where our history records begin,” said Marianne in a carefully neutral voice.

“I’m sorry,” Bog blurted.

“I know goblins used to eat fays, Bog. I heard you telling them not to eat me the other night.”

“It’s not – it hasn’t happened for a long time.”

“Not for decades, as far as we know. But there are still a lot of people who remember losing someone.”

“And many who remember eating them.” Bog cracked his neck and made a desperate grab at a lighter topic. “That’s, ah, another reason diplomacy is a good idea. Since, no one would want to eat their friends.”

“Not to mention another incentive for us to send food and keep you from starving.”

* * *

“Dandelion greens, yes, but none of the rest of these. I’m surprised you even have hostas.”

“Well, it’s too sunny to grow them in most places, but there are a few spots with enough shade. Do you have many in the Forest, then?”

“A few varieties. They’re a bit like you how described dandelions – edible but seen as weeds.”

“Okay, so if goblins really don’t tend to eat any of these, then we don’t have to worry too much about compromising our own winter stores.” She made a decisive note on one of the lists they were composing. “So if we split the clover with the elves and you can send some hostas to the brownies – for some reason they tend to be allergic to clover, that’s part of why we grow hostas – then they can send a larger percent of the legume harvest.”

“I would have thought fairies migrated in winter. Or hibernated.”

“Hey, just because we look like butterflies and moths doesn’t mean we act like them. We don’t pupate, either. We hatch with wings. And they’re not as sensitive as everyone seems to think – we have to be careful about frostbite, obviously, but short term we can use our wings sort of like a cloak to keep the rest of our body warm.”

“So …” Bog looked at her wings. “Are you overheated right now?”

She lifted them again, into a sail arching up from her back instead of splayed across the bed like a blanket.

“No, it’s just a nuisance to have to remember to keep them open all the way.”

Marianne’s wings looked different with light shining on them instead of through them. They were solid and strong instead of glowing and ethereal. The colours were more saturated, vivid as the showiest flower but at the same time deep and dark like his forest.

Alright, Bog couldn’t even claim to himself that he wasn’t infatuated. When was the last time, if ever, that he’d compared something to a flower and meant it as a compliment?

Damn it all, he was _the Bog King_ , fearsome ruler of the goblins, he who had banned romance in the Dark Forest! (Although he had his doubts about how well that ban had been enforced out of his line of sight.) He wasn’t supposed to _wax poetic_ about a _fairy’s wings_!

Even if they were beautiful, and so much darker than the wings of other fairies he’d seen, almost as if she were meant for a darker place than this sunny field …

Damn, damn, damn, _damn_!

“Bog? You okay?” His eyes darted from her purple wings to her brown eyes. She'd pushed her eyepatch up while writing, so she wouldn't spill the ink. She smiled at him.

“I’m fine.” Resolutely _not_ looking at her wings again, Bog pulled a random paper towards him, made sure it was the right way up, and pretended to read it while trying to think of something to say. “I’m … glad you’re not in pain.”

* * *

“Hey, Marianne! I thought I’d keep you company for lunch!” Dawn got a mischievous smile when she noticed the goblin king at her sister’s bedside. “Unless you two were planning to make it a lunch _date_.”

“Dawn!”

The curly haired princess just kept smiling. Then she noticed the impromptu desk by Marianne’s bed, scattered with papers, and how Marianne’s and the Bog King’s hands were lightly spattered with ink.

“Have you two spent the _whole morning_ doing _paperwork_ together?” she asked in dismay.

“… More or less?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hosta is a leafy plant that tends to grow in shaded areas. They are edible to humans but poisonous to dogs, cats, and horses.


	22. Plants

“What have you been up to this morning?” Marianne asked Dawn. She dipped a bit of bread into her soup bowl.

“I took Chipper out for a run. Lizzie got jealous. I tried explaining how he’s used to being out for hours with just one fairy for company but she still wasn’t happy. She cheered up when we came back and she and Chipper had a race. Then she had a nap in the sunshine while Chipper and I played tag. I thought about taking them rock climbing on the castle walls but I figured I should warn people about that first. Oh! That reminds me, Bog, can Chipper go to the Forest for tree climbing sometimes? He’s spent his whole life here, but he’s still a squirrel, so he’s probably got a ton of unfulfilled climbing instincts.”

“He could pull a cart when we deliver trade goods,” suggested Marianne. “Then he could run around afterwards – under supervision, of course.”

“Supervision’s a good idea,” Bog agreed.

There were more chairs than usual in the hospital wing just now. They’d been brought in for the Council meeting and left there afterwards. Dawn had claimed one of them and set it up beside Bog’s, rather than making Marianne roll over each time she wanted to talk to her sister or her … or to Bog. It also allowed a lunch tray to be set up in easy reach of everyone.

After a few bites of soup-soaked bread, Marianne sat up properly. Talking to people while lying down was awkward. Eating while lying down was a nuisance. 

Over Bog’s shoulder, she saw the door crack opened again and a wide, grey, smiling face peek in.

“Hi, Griselda. We were just having lunch. Want to join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Griselda dragged a chair over and helped herself to some soup, which she drank directly from the bowl.

Marianne guessed, from her surprised expression, that Griselda had expected meat rather than tomato. It didn’t stop Griselda from ladling out another bowlful.

Dawn tapped her spoon on the edge of her bowl, then against her lower lip, clearly torn between ‘graciously correcting’ their guest’s dining etiquette or politely ignoring it. Marianne spared her sister making that decision by drinking her own soup the same way Griselda had.

It was much more filling as a proper mouthful than as the teasing tastes that a spoon allowed.

The five sprites were swarming over a raspberry and a blackberry, pulling each fruit apart one drupelet at a time and digging in. They looked much more intimidating with uneven red stains on their hands and mouths. Marianne wondered if her mouth was stained the same way.

“I’ll get us some more water.” Dawn put down her bowl on the cart they were using as a table and took the half-full pitcher to the sink built into the wall, usually used for cleaning the physicians’ tools or hands. Both goblins snapped their heads in her direction when they heard the _glug-glug-gloosh_.

“What is _that_?” Griselda demanded. She hopped up and went to the sink, wide-eyed, and tapped the pump handle. 

Bog’s twitchy wings and shoulder spurs went down in a slump when nothing happened. Marianne found his protectiveness over his mother almost … cute.

_No, bad thoughts, not appropriate …_

“It’s a water pump,” Dawn explained. “The metal pipes go to the river, and water flows into them and, um,” she tapped her chin, “give me a minute to remember. It goes to this tank, it’s like a container that’s just a bit too small, and there are more pipes that go in all different directions. So when someone opens a tap,” she turned the spigot and held the jug to the tap again, “and pumps the handle,” demonstrating, “the water is sort of _pulled_ from this end and _pushed_ from that end, and it comes out of the tap.”

Griselda tried it again. “ _Interesting_. We have irrigation, but that’s got a limited range from the water source. And of course wells, and everyone collects rainwater, but this is … so _controlled_. Is this how the fountain in the ballroom works?”

“Yup! All plumbing, pipes, and pumps.”

“I just assumed there was a well under the castle,” Bog said to Marianne, “and someone had enchanted it to send up a geyser.”

“She showed you the _ballroom_?”

“She showed us everything.”

“All at once? No wonder you got lost yesterday.”

“Heh.” He ducked his head and looked away from her.

“Actually, um, that reminds me.” Dawn and Griselda were still chatting – comparing cooking tools now, it sounded like – so this could be their last moment of relative privacy before Bog had to go to sleep for the day. “I have a selfish request. Would you mind … not exploring too much? I’d like to be the one to show you the Fairy Kingdom, the way you showed me the Dark Forest.”

That got a smile, sharp and crooked and warm.

“I’ll await your guidance.”

They toasted each other and tapped their bowls.

* * *

“Your wings look much better, your highness,” said Caroline. “Your kneecap and ankle feel like they’re ready to stay in place, though you still should use a crutch once you’re walking again and that splint stays on until I’m absolutely sure … but I think you’re ready to take the eyepatch off.”

“I’ve been taking it off every once in a while already,” Marianne confessed. “I don’t like losing depth perception, and it’s weird to sleep in.” She didn’t mention the few times she’d gotten out of bed and walked around, crutch-less.

“Well, let’s see how it’s healing.”

Marianne sat up. Caroline slid the eyepatch off and set it on the bedside table, next to the bowl of flower petals. Dawn watched keenly from her seat across the room.

“Your eye looks much better. The bruising is almost completely gone. Cover your left eye and track my hand movements.”

Marianne put her hand over her eye and the physician moved her own hand up and down, side to side – then made a jabbing motion towards the princess’ face. Marianne flinched back and batted her hand away. Caroline laughed.

“Yes, you’re fine. Comfrey from the Dark Forest must be more potent than what we have here.”

“Maybe the dandelions are too?” Marianne flexed her wings. It had only been her first treatment of dandelion paste that had come from the forest, but there was no harm in hoping, right?

“Nice try, your highness. You’ve got four days of bed rest to go. Keep those wings open.”

Marianne groaned. “Yes, Caroline.”

“Tomorrow, you can start some wing exercises to keep your flight muscles from atrophying.”

She brightened at that idea.

“I’ll help,” said Dawn eagerly. Marianne shot her a surprised look. Dawn shrugged. “I’d like to be stronger too.”

“You’re welcome to join in, of course,” Caroline agreed. “If King Dagda is amenable, the three of you doing these exercises as a family might even get him back in the air again.”

That was a stunning thought. Marianne hadn’t seen her father fly for more than a few seconds in years.

“We’ll talk to him at dinner,” she said.

Caroline left the princesses and sprites alone, heading back to her office to update Marianne’s records and make note of the new recommendations. 

Fuchsia floated down and picked up the discarded eyepatch. Marianne caught it by the strap before her handmaiden could take it away, and slipped it into the flower bowl. She ignored Dawn’s possibly-involuntary coo.

“That flower was a present from Bog, wasn’t it? It was in your hair when you came back from ‘stretching your wings’.” Dawn fluttered her fingers. “If you want, I could cast a repair spell on it. Or at least a preserving spell.”

“… Preserving would be nice, yeah.”

Watching the way Dawn’s magic flowed was almost hypnotic. Pink and gold sparks wafted like dandelion seeds. A smaller number purple and orange sparks swirled through the glittering cloud. Dawn must have been putting a lot of herself into this enchantment, because Marianne even saw a few black and white sparks – not a shock, given Dawn’s wing colours, but quite uncommon.

The magic floated down and settled into the bowl, and was absorbed into the flower petals like water soaking into a sponge.

“Thanks, sis.”

“Hey, while you’re in here, maybe you could practice your magic more?”

Marianne shook her head and finally settled back down on the bed.

“You know mine’s not that useful. Strengthening metal and glass and ceramics only helps if I’m allowed to enchant armour and weapons, which is ‘not suitable for a lady’, or if I’m helping in the kitchens, which is ‘below the station of a princess’. And weakening them only helps if I want to break stuff.” 

She’d literally broken the throne room’s heavy double doors, showing off her magic as a child. She’d put a strengthening spell on them after they’d been repaired, but she hadn’t actually been able to help fix them.

Marianne’s power would certainly come in handy in a siege, either as an attacker or defender, and she probably could have used it to escape the dungeons of the goblin castle if she’d wanted to do that, but it wasn’t nearly so desirable a power in the Fairy Kingdom as Dawn’s plant-magic.

“The Bog King’s staff looked metallic. You could offer to put a strengthening spell on that, like you did with your sword,” Dawn suggested.

“I’ll ask him,” Marianne conceded, mostly to get Dawn to drop the subject. Then a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Dawn … can you enchant wood?”

* * *

“Hey, Dad.” Marianne barely glanced at him, concentrating on the twigs Thimble and Lilac had fetched for the princesses.

Her set shone purple and black, with hints of blue and dark pink and occasional flashes of white and red. Dawn’s pile was aglow in pink and gold and orange and purple, with bolts of white and black shot through.

Marianne let her magic ebb and tried snapping one of the twigs. It bent and broke. She sighed and tossed it back into the pile.

“What in the world are you two doing?”

“Marianne thought that, if fairy magic works on wood, then maybe instead of the goblins building a new castle we could just fix the old one.”

“So far it isn’t doing anything.” Marianne blew a lock of hair out of her face. “But my sparks don’t affect plants anyway – I just wondered if maybe wood would be different – and Dawn’s mostly work on flowers, so we’ll need a few more fairies to test it out.”

Dawn allowed her magic to fade out as well. “Is it dinner time yet? I’m getting hungry. It feels like we’ve been at this for hours.”

“You have,” said Caroline, startling the sisters. Neither one had noticed her office door was open. “You’ve spent the last two hours in a near-meditative state. It’s common with that level of magical experimentation; nothing to be concerned with, though I do recommend a large meal and minimizing any spellwork for the next day or so, if you have to use magic at all.”

* * *

“So, it looks like we won’t be able to put your original castle back together after all,” Marianne concluded. Bog had come to see her again shortly after breakfast.

“I appreciate the thought.” He gave her that sharp-but-warm smile again. “After some discussion and debate, we’re hollowing out a new tree. It’s much more centrally located – the old castle was near the northwest border, so the towns in the southeast didn’t always get the same attention as the nearer towns.”

“That’s practical.” 

The Fairy Castle was in the southern region of the kingdom, but fairies and sprites could fly and most brownies and elves rode dragonflies, so outlying areas of the kingdom were able to contact the castle fairly quickly. Marianne had seen goblins riding dragonflies and Bog had told her he wasn’t the only one with wings, but he’d also mentioned flight was uncommon.

“Oh! And, speaking of the Forest, I … I brought you something.” Bog opened his satchel of paperwork and plucked something from the top. “Here. I noticed the first one was – sort of _destroyed_ , so – here.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne softly.

It was a dark blue flower; the same kind that he’d give her the night they met.


	23. Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this chapter ready to go two weeks ago ... but I didn't want it to get buried under all the Strange Magic Week stories, and then I decided to wait another week so people could have a chance to catch up with the deluge of new fics before mine updated.

Open. Raise. Lower. Close. Open. Raise. Lower. Close.

Marianne was both grateful and frustrated. It was a relief to feel the familiar burn as she worked her muscles to the edge of endurance. But physical therapy was so _boring_! She wanted to _fly_!

The exercise amounted to very slowly flapping her wings, over and over. It was surprisingly hard to keep up a steady pace – usually, after a few quick flaps to takeoff, Marianne glided and saved her energy for quick changes in direction.

Open. Raise. Lower. Close. Open. Raise. Lower. Close.

Dagda, to her left, was sweating and red-faced. His wing movements were starting to falter. He was breathing hard.

On Marianne's right, Dawn looked to be holding up fairly well – she didn't have a year of hard training under her belt like Marianne did, but she didn't have injuries holding her back either.

Open. Raise. Lower. Close. Open. Raise. Lower. Close.

There were light weights ever-so-carefully clamped to each wing to provide resistance and prevent accidental taking off. They also made Marianne very conscious of each movement – most of the time, a fairy didn't even think very much about her wings after learning to fly, any more than she thought about her legs after learning to walk.

Open. Raise. Lower. Close. Open. Raise. Lower. Close.

"Alright, I think that's enough for the first session," Caroline announced. "Hold your wings open and I'll get the weights off."

Marianne looked to her father with concern. Yes, his wings were shaking. Caroline noticed as well, and removed his weights first. His wings fell shut and he collapsed into the nearest chair.

"Dad?" Dawn hurried over to him.

"I'm fine, my dear." He patted her hand and tried to smile. It looked almost as fake as the tooth-baring grimace Marianne had made at the Spring Ball.

"You're probably mildly dehydrated, so drink as much water as you can and avoid alcohol until at least an hour after your shoulders stop aching," Caroline instructed, briskly removing the clamps from Marianne's wings and checking the bandages under them. "Have something with protein, maybe. There's been some speculation in the medical community that eating meat is why it's easier for brownies and elves to build muscle than we can, or sprites."

"Goblins eat meat, too," Dawn commented, "and they seem pretty strong. Thang can jump this high –" she held her free hand where the top of her head would be if she was standing straight instead of leaning solicitously over her father "– without even taking a running start."

Which one was Thang? Was that the goblin who'd interrupted the sparring match? _An arm skis on roaches_? Right, one of Bog's aides, Thang and Stuff; Bog had sent them to get the comfrey he'd made into Marianne's eyepatch …

"I'll need your weights, too, your highness," Caroline reminded Dawn. The younger princess obediently opened her wings again.

"Why was a goblin jumping at you?" Dagda kept a firm hold on Dawn's hand.

"He wasn't jumping _at_ me, we were talking about games we played as kids and he was just showing me."

"I see." Dagda was still frowning, but he dropped the subject and let Dawn go. She helped the physician to sort the weights in their bags and put them away.

The therapy room was next to the infirmary. The entirety of one wall was a shelving unit, which the weights had come from, and along another wall were various pieces of equipment too large to be shelved. Most of the room was open space, with light padding on the floor, walls, and ceiling. It was big enough to hold six fairies comfortably, or even fifteen if they all kept their wings down, and allow limited flight.

Marianne fluttered her wings a couple of times, relishing the free movement, and followed Caroline back into the infirmary. She'd worn herself out enough that bed-rest sounded appealing for once, and the books Dawn and the sprites had brought her should provide more mental stimulation than the agonizingly slow and repetitive wing movements.

"Princess?" Fuchsia wrung her hands. "Would you like us to learn how to apply and remove the wing weights, in case you wish to practice your new training by yourself?"

"No, Fuchsia, I think I'll save that for when Caroline can supervise."

"Oh, good. I mean, very well, your highness."

* * *

"BK, you need to let your guards help you! That's why you have guards!"

"I do not need a bodyguard to follow me around every minute that I'm in the Fairy Kingdom!"

"Okay, maybe bodyguard was a poor choice of word on my part, but please, Sire; you must recognize the risk to your safety? Perhaps an _honour_ guard?"

Bog growled at Portia. She stood her ground.

"For your subjects' peace of mind, BK," she tried next, "while you're in a foreign and potentially hostile kingdom. I know you're trying for an alliance, but if not every fay is inclined to accept that …"

"Your attacker only has to be lucky once. You have to be lucky every time. So don't depend on luck," Bog recited. He managed to keep his spurs from rattling, but they were still flexed outwards.

"You fell asleep in their library while no one from the Forest knew you were there."

Bog glared at Thang – Portia had to have gotten her information from somewhere, and he knew he hadn't been the one to tell her that – but didn't contradict the statement.

"And the more I hear about that night, the more I wonder if you're entirely objective in your threat assessments."

"What?"

_Tread carefully when questioning your King._

"You were alone with someone you knew was irrational and obsessed with you, and you _gave her back her weapon_. Mire and thickets, what were you thinking? What if she'd attacked you again? Fairies are stronger than they look!"

"She was in love with him," Stuff pointed out.

"And not every _attack_ is with intent to _kill_ ," retorted Portia.

"Marianne would never –" Bog snapped.

"You didn't know that! You didn't know _her_! And even if she wouldn't in her right mind, her judgement and rational thinking were impaired!"

"She's in her right mind _now_." That was meant to come out more indignant and less petulant than it had.

"Which still doesn't ensure your safety from her subjects."

There were many things that frustrated the Bog King. One of them was getting into an argument and then having to concede that his opponent was right.

"Who did you have in mind?"

"Ideally, myself. I helped train you to fight, so in a dangerous situation we'll be able to fight our way out without getting in each other's way, and as I'm currently visibly injured, it's unlikely the Fairy Kingdom will conclude that you're amassing forces within their borders to try and conquer them from within. The three weeks until my cast comes off should be enough time to make a thorough and accurate threat assessment. I've already sorted out proper delegation for my duties here, to avoid the unbalance that allowed this mess."

"With respect, Captain," Brutus cautiously inserted himself into the conversation, "I question your objectivity. You're taking this very personally."

Portia puffed up for a moment, and then deflated.

"I admit to an ulterior motive in nominating myself. I wish to redeem my irresponsibility that allowed the first invasion. I want to find the elf that got in and question them about the holes in our security, to ensure those holes are shut."

"He'll be in the Forest again," said Stuff. "He got sentenced to help build the new castle. So he'll be able to point out any flaws in the plans while it's still being put together."

Portia didn't look especially pleased with that, but she didn't say anything about the elf possibly purposefully leaving some kind of secret entrance for future break-ins either. Bog would have to talk to Marianne about arranging an interview – not an interrogation, he'd have to remind Portia before she began – between his Captain of the Guard and her friend … what was his name? Sunny.

* * *

"Good morning, Bog!"

It was the fourth day since the night that he'd kidnapped her and … well, it was debatable whether he'd let her go or she'd escaped, the circumstances being so chaotic, but the point was that for the past four days he had been a guest of her kingdom instead of her being a prisoner in his, and Bog and Marianne were starting to develop a routine.

He would come visit her in the morning and they would talk, getting to know each other over political arrangements. After lunch, he would go get some sleep while Marianne had physical therapy and attended to her duties as Crown Princess, and at night while she slept, he would go back to the Dark Forest and attend to his duties as King. She hoped he had a chance for a nap there before coming back to the Fairy Kingdom.

Today, he had brought someone new back from the forest.

"And you are?"

"Marianne, ladies, this is Captain Portia of the Dark Forest Guard. Portia, Crown Princess Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom, and …" Bog hesitated. The sprite triad floated down and introduced themselves.

"Zinnia."

"Lilac."

"Fuchsia. Handmaidens to Princess Marianne."

"Your highness." The large goblin nodded to her. Marianne swallowed her surprise and nodded back.

"Pleased to meet you."

Captain Portia assumed a post near the door. Marianne was surprised that Bog's bodyguard – because what else could she be? – had a broken leg. Wouldn't that hold her back and limit her ability to protect the Bog King? On the other hand, Portia looked fully able to club someone unconscious with one of her crutches, and it wasn't like Bog was helpless or even in danger …

"No, no, no, no, no." Caroline came out of her office, set down the water glass she'd presumably emerged to fill, and flew over to Portia, who assumed a defensive stance. Caroline landed out of arms' reach and folded her arms over her chest. "I may not have true authority over you but I am in charge of this hospital wing and I will not have someone standing on a broken leg all day. There are plenty of chairs. Pick one and _sit down_."

There was a tense moment.

Portia laughed.

"Sire, I think the fay's physician is fiercer than ours. We need to bring Rocco sometime."

She hooked one of her crutches through the nearest chair's woven back and hauled it over. Portia put her hand on the seat and pressed down. It took Marianne a moment to figure out that she was testing if it could hold her weight. Evidently satisfied, Portia sat where she had been standing. Caroline gave a haughty nod, got her drink, and went back to her office, wings still twitching.

* * *

Bog had been certain Portia would react badly to being ordered around by a fairy, but instead she seemed … happy about it?

Maybe it was confirmations bias, and Portia was pleased that a fairy had behaved aggressively because it justified her perception of them as a possible threat.

Or maybe it was the comfort of familiarity, and she appreciated encountering someone stern and pragmatic, like Portia herself.

Or perhaps she was relieved that the fairy valued her physician's oaths enough to care about the wellbeing of a goblin, marking Caroline as a possible ally if any goblin needed care while in the Fairy Kingdom.

He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"Caroline can be abrupt, I know, but she means well," offered Marianne with a shrug and a wry grin. "She's been Royal Physician since … for a long time."

"My Royal Physician, Rocco, has held the position since before I was born. Portia's right. We should introduce them, to trade medical knowledge."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Portia's eyes narrow at him. Teaching someone how to heal involved teaching them how to hurt. This was a risky thing to offer a new ally.

"Rocco's the one who wrote that list of medicinal plants you and I were going over the other day, right?"

"Yeah. Seems a logical exchange, herbs that need extra sunlight for herbs that need extra shade."

"Yeah. I showed it to Caroline after lunch and she said she didn't recognize some of the plant names, so she's got one of her apprentices looking through old medical and gardening texts to see what other names different plants have gone by in the past."

"And I suppose that some of what we use mightn't be beneficial here, and vice versa."

* * *

In Portia's way of thinking, there were two basic and equally valid ways for a guard to function.

The first, at which she was naturally adept due to her size, was a show of force. Like the lurid colours of a toxic creature, the guard was blatant and visibly powerful and warded off attacks before they came through sheer intimidation.

The second, at which she had spent years training, was an unseen protection. No one noticed that the guard was there, and so they relaxed their own guard and became careless, and exposed their vulnerabilities and their plans.

If the blatant guard was a brightly-striped wasp buzzing around their nest, the subtle guard was a trapdoor spider waiting under the leaves.

She had decided on the second method for her visit to the Fairy Kingdom, both to avoid undermining the Bog King's appearance of strength – he was the best fighter in the Forest, and she couldn't have the fays thinking her king was an easy target without a bodyguard – and to learn more about these people who were the Forest's potential allies and potential enemies.

By fading into the background, she could observe the fays' behaviour and determine their intentions.

The stone castle was convenient. It was coloured similarly to her hide, so if a fairy suddenly caught sight of her, they would assume she simply didn't stand out rather than suspecting her of having a secret hiding spot, as trainee guards often assumed before being taught how to fade into the background themselves.

It was also very funny to watch people jump and awkwardly mutter that she'd been so quiet, they'd forgotten she was there.

So far, Princess Marianne seemed to be the person Portia had heard described; reasonably intelligent, inclined towards diplomacy, good-humoured, and attracted to the Bog King. Portia was no longer inclined to accept Griselda's word on that last point, considering the sheer number of women the former queen had brought to the castle on the same premise without letting the guards screen them first, but Stuff and Thang and Othello and Julius and Brutus had all vouched for this as well.

Time would tell.

She'd have to keep an eye on the sprites. With their size and immediate service to their kingdom's heir apparent, they had to be protectors in addition to whatever other duties they fulfilled. Beings that small, capable of flight, could attack from any angle without warning and steal a weapon before its wielder thought to draw it. And if that glow they emitted was something they could consciously control, they could probably blind someone at will, or wink out of sight in the dark by dimming it entirely. Their flight, like the flight of an owl, didn't seem to make a sound.

The sprites helped Princess Marianne with her sword training, Bog had said. Once the princess was released from the hospital wing, Portia wanted to see her fight. A person revealed a lot about themselves with the way they fought.


	24. Disparity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have song credits at the end of the story as a whole - would people be interested in _also_ having song credits at the end of the chapters that have singing in them?

After lunch with Marianne and before going to bed for a few hours of sleep before sunset, Bog went down to the dungeons to check on the guards he'd leant to the Fairy Kingdom.

There hadn't been anything new to report yesterday or the day before, once all the prisoners had regained consciousness, but that could change quickly.

In three more days, Bog intended to replace half the guards' number with fresh guards from the Forest. Weekly rotations would hopefully keep any goblin from becoming too stressed, or worse, growing complacent and unobservant and neglecting their duties. There was a reason no one was supposed to be assigned to a particular patrol route or checkpoint or watch post for more than a month at a stretch.

"No one else could be as admired as me! I'm everyone's favourite guy! Everyone's awed and inspired by me – and it's not very hard to see why!"

Bog grimaced. If Roland kept singing, stress was going to be a greater concern than complacency.

There had been some talk about gagging him, but that would have to be undone to allow the prisoner food and water, and the guards would have to 'attend his personal needs', as the current euphemism went for helping someone with their hands restrained to void their bladder and bowels without befouling their own feet, or clothes, in fay cases.

Snipping Roland's vocal cords couldn't be done unless that was part of his sentence. Bog was in favour of that, both because of the fairy's annoying voice and because of what Marianne had told Bog about Roland's supposed charm and persuasive skills, and talent for phrasing criticisms to sound like compliments at the first hearing so that she felt guilty for feeling insulted. If the surgeon accidentally cut Roland's throat, well, Bog had proposed execution first; he certainly wouldn't pry too deeply into whether it had truly been an accident.

"Who's got abs like Roland's? Your gaze grabs like Roland's? Handsomeness could almost drive you mad like Roland's?"

"Does this mean he's stopped singing to Fleance?" Bog hoped so. If love potions wore off, that was one less thing to worry about.

"Afraid not, sire," said Snug. "He's decided they need to get to know each other, which means _he_ needs to sing about how great he is."

"No one has curls like Roland – woos the girls like Roland –"

"No one's plot breaks down as it unfurls like Roland's! He's impulsive, obnoxious, infuriating – My, what a guy, that Roland!" Julius cleared his throat. "Apologies, your majesty. I believe he's singing a crowd song – this is the second time through and I keep being pulled in at that point. Thankfully I've not actually been made to sing his praises."

"Have any other guards been caught in the music?" asked Portia.

"Not to the point of singing," said one of the fairy guards. "But in little ways, yes, like stepping to the beat when making rounds."

"When I was a boy I brushed one-hundred strokes through my hair to keep it looking fine. Now that I'm a man I brush one-thousand strokes, and I must say that I look DIVI-I-I-I-INE!"

"We'd sedate him, but he keeps spouting out lyrics that could be useful during his trial. Listen to this last part."

"– proud as Roland, so bow down to Roland! No one could look as good in a crown as Roland! Just a matter of time till the coronation – Long live the King –"

Every guard in the dungeon clamped their hands over their ears at the same time. Bog and Portia barely had time to follow suit before Roland passionately and lengthily sang his own name.

There was a moment of silence before he started singing a new song.

"Lavender blue, dilly-dilly. Lavender green. If I were king, dilly-dilly, I'd need a queen …"

"He keeps going back to this one," said Snug.

"Dilly-dilly – who told me so? I told myself, dilly-dilly – I told me so. If your dilly-dilly heart feels a dilly-dilly way, and if you'll answer yes –"

"No one's getting restless down here, without a chance to exercise more than making rounds?"

Snout fielded Portia's question.

"We've been going up in pairs to spar. The fays have a training arena for their guards. They said we could use it at night."

"There are a few of us curious to test our mettle against a goblin or two," said the fairy who'd spoken before, "but so far there haven't been any sparring matches."

"Lavender blue, dilly-dilly, and lavender green. Then I'll be king, dilly-dilly, and you'll be my queen!"

"I'll be observing those bouts, when they begin," the Bog King announced. "Princess Marianne will likely want to as well."

The fairy frowned a little at that.

"Don't go changing, to try and please me. You've never let me down before …"

"If you and the princess work out the details to mesh our sparring rules, you could referee," Julius suggested brightly.

"The princess does not spar," objected the fairy sharply. Then, correcting themselves, added, "Not by the official rules."

"Are you implying Princess Marianne _cheats_?" Julius' eyes narrowed.

"No! I only meant – she's not _supposed_ to spar."

Every goblin in earshot had at least some of their attention on the fairy guard now. Royalty, not sparring? How was she supposed to know her training was any good if she didn't practice fighting?

"I took the good times," Roland cooed. "I'll take the bad times! I'll take you just the way you are!"

Bog stayed quiet. Marianne had told him she was self-taught and her father disapproved, but hadn't said why and quickly changed the subject. Bog had a few hypotheses – Marianne had a natural talent that quickly outstripped her tutors; or there was some restriction on royalty sparring so that an assassination attempt could not be disguised as a training accident; or perhaps Dagda just thought Marianne had started training too young and worried that she might challenge him for the crown before she was mature enough to rule their kingdom well.

"Why not?" Julius asked for everyone.

"She's a _woman_!" exclaimed the fairy, like that explained anything.

"I would think that would only be of concern during pregnancy." Portia's counterpoint only made the fairy look even more scandalized.

"You'll always have my unspoken passion, although I might not seem to care. I don't want clever conversation –"

"Maybe it's different in your forest, but here, women _do not fight_."

"– Just want someone I can talk to. I want you just the way you are!"

"Is there a population crisis?" asked Snout. "Plummeting numbers, so you can't risk any woman getting injured to the point where she can't reproduce?" Some of the city-states in the Dark Forest's early history had banned women from hunting parties or military service until they were beyond reproductive age for that reason.

"What? No. It's just … it's inappropriate for a lady to fight."

"And this I promise from my heart: I could not love you any better! I love you just the way you are! Wise man say, only fools rush in –"

Several goblins groaned when the new song began.

"I thought he'd given up on this one!" Snug griped.

"Ignoring the Fairy Kingdom's gender division for now," Portia made a little dismissive gesture, "the first few sparring matches would be best sorted by size so it's easier for an observer to see what's going on. Smaller goblins against brownies and elves, larger goblins against fairies." Goblin guards were often divided by size when performing drills, to make it easier for their leader to observe and evaluate their performance. "I don't think there are any goblins small enough to match a sprite, so they'll have to wait a few rounds until we start mixing sizes."

"Take my hand. Take my whole life, too."

The fairy guard was frowning again.

"I don't think it's appropriate for your guards to be fighting our civilians."

"… We could bring some citizens too. But I was referring to bouts between guards."

"But all the guards are fairies."

"No, I can't help falling in love …"

"… What?"

Bog, Portia, and every goblin guarding the dungeon asked this at about the same time, creating an odd echo effect.

* * *

Portia was still growling hours later, as they prepared to return to the Forest. Bog could hear her straining to calm herself, so as not to panic her dragonfly once they were in the air.

The fairy guard hadn't been able to give the goblins an explanation of why the Fairy Kingdom restricted their armed forces to a single race – "that's just how it is" did not count as an explanation – and Bog had finally stepped in and assured his people that he'd discuss the matter with the fays' royal family. _Tomorrow_.

Dawn came into the stable with the elf. He went to open the lizard's stall, while the princess half-sang a greeting to the goblins.

"Hi, Bog! Thang, Stuff. And – I don't think we've met? Hi, I'm Dawn!"

"Hello, Princess," said Bog. He liked her, a little, but her energy was tiring even in small doses, especially when he wasn't totally awake yet.

Portia nodded to the exuberant fairy. "Portia, your highness."

"It's nice to meet you, Portia. This is Sunny and this is Lizzie."

"Hi." The elf was half-hidden behind the lizard's foreleg. This of course meant Portia would be paying extra attention to him even if she hadn't recognized the name. _Anyone trying to hide from you is worth paying attention to._

"You're the one who snuck into the forest?"

Dawn tensed and Sunny flinched before nodding.

"Would you be interested in running drills with our patrols in the future? Clearly they need a challenge."

"Um." He ducked a little further behind the lizard. "What would I have to do?"

Portia took a step towards him – swinging her crutches a little wider than necessary and standing with her splinted leg sticking out a bit – and looked him up and down.

"Obstacle courses. You run – scurrying under roots, climbing branches, swinging on vines, hopping rock to rock, anything you can think of to make yourself harder to track – and they try to catch you. No weapons; no fighting; catch and release for the next drill. _If_ they can catch you."

"I had help, the first time," the – _Sunny_ – admitted abruptly. "I'd never have found the castle if not for the imp."

"What imp?"

"The same one that stole the love potion later," said Dawn. "A … little smaller than Sunny but bigger than Stuff, white fur, grey-black ear tips and stripe down the back … It was love-dusting people all over the place before we caught it; that's how Lizzie got dusted." She patted the lizard's nose. "It was there when the potion bottle smashed, too. It got really upset, and then ran off. Lots of people saw."

"And no one grabbed them?" Portia gave Stuff and Thang a sideways glare. They both cringed.

"Well, with the potion gone, I guess no one thought it was important to catch the imp anymore?" Dawn speculated.

"Plum told me not to let the imp have the potion," Sunny added. "So even if it found a primrose petal and found her, she wouldn't brew the potion for it."

"And what about all the people they already dusted?"

There was a beat of absolute silence.

"Lizzie's with us, but, I don't know about anyone else," said Dawn softly.

"Love's not banned in the forest anymore," Thang chimed in, "so the Guard would have just left them alone."

Portia nodded and turned to Bog. It was something of a production for her to turn around, with her crutches and cast.

"With your permission, Sire, once we get back to the forest I'll send out an alert to bring this imp in for questioning and track down everyone they used the potion on. If the dustings were all mutual then the victims should be mostly safe in the short term, but if any are one-sided that could create a dangerous situation. And then we'll need to find Sugar Plum again, to see if anything ends her spell besides 'real love'."

"Agreed." Bog might not plan to lock Sugar Plum back up, but he and Marianne both agreed they should know where she had gone.

"But –" Dawn looked puzzled. "But imps are animals, aren't they? How can you question it if it can't talk?"

"Non-verbal does not mean non-sentient." Portia turned around again. "Sunny, you were able to understand this imp enough to follow directions, right?"

"Sort of? I mean, when I said I was looking for the Sugar Plum Fairy, it led me to the castle."

"We definitely need your help, then. If the guards couldn't catch you, they won't be able to catch someone you were following. Will you run drills with us?"

Sunny hopped in place, his hands behind his back. He wasn't hiding behind the lizard anymore, but he wasn't looking directly at anyone either. The lizard seemed to be getting restless, possibly picking up on the elf's tension.

"Okay." It came out in a squeak.

"Good. Come back here tomorrow at the same time and we'll work out which nights work best."

"Nights?" The squeak got higher.

"… Right, fays are diurnal. We'll work something out. Late evenings or early mornings, maybe."

Bog cleared his throat and buzzed his wings, not to take off, just to get Portia's attention. He would prefer to get back to the Dark Forest before sunset.

* * *

"Brutus, you got along alright with the fairy princess, didn't you?"

"I suppose," Brutus agreed.

"Would you be willing to approach her about starting a self-defense class for the Fairy Kingdom's citizens? We'll probably need the princess' endorsement to set up something like that."

"Sure. I'm not sure when our paths will cross again, but I will definitely suggest that to her when they do." Brutus nodded. Then his brow furrowed and his ears twitched. "Don't they teach self-defense in their schools, though?"

"I'm not entirely sure they have a school system instead of just tutors for the rich ones. If I can convince Mavis to visit, I'll get her to ask."

"But still, not to dismiss our training, but wouldn't the fays know better than goblins about how to teach other fays to fight?"

"Maybe they would, but they clearly aren't doing it. I learned today that they only allow fairy men to serve in their Guard."

"… That makes no sense."

"I know!"

"What about the non-binaries and –"

"They didn't come up, but it was implied they'd have to present as male to join the Guard. They denied having a population crisis, and you'd think the size differences would create a few places fairies couldn't fit so they'd _have_ to include the other races, but the law enforcement of the kingdom is staffed entirely by fairy men. Fairy women and fays who aren't fairies aren't taught to fight. One of their guards outright said it was _inappropriate_."

"To _you_?"

"To Snout, in front of me."

Brutus snorted. "So when did he realize you were both women?"

Portia – married mother of two, Captain of the Dark Forest Guard for longer than the Bog King had been king – looked thoughtful. "You know, I'm not certain he did."


	25. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to dedicate this chapter to whoever reviewed all the chapters before it, but nobody got all of them. (That's not the reason for the delay, it's just a thing that happened ... or didn't happen, as the case may be.) Instead I dedicate this chapter to everyone who tries to leave kudos on a fic only to be told "You have already left kudos here."

The difficult thing about dating a friend was coming up with things to do.

Sunny wanted to do something special with Dawn; something different, now that they were dating, to distinguish their time together now from all the time they had spent together before. But other than holding hands more often, he had no ideas.

(Other than kissing her, but after Dawn had said she wanted to take their new relationship slowly, he'd decided it would be better to wait until she kissed him first, to be sure she was comfortable with it.)

As friends, they already danced and sang together, and hugged, and gave each other little presents and surprises, and wandered aimlessly through the kingdom to see where they might end up.

The last of these was what they were doing now, walking in Lizzie's shadow. It was late afternoon and there hadn't been many clouds or breezes that day, so the sun's heat had soaked into the ground. A bit of shade offered the perfect spring temperature. Larkspur and Thimble were 'chaperoning' again, but the sprites were discreet about it.

"So … how was work?" Dawn asked.

Sunny was a performer at heart, but so were many others in the kingdom. His main employment was running packages and messages as a courier.

"To be honest, I think people were avoiding me for messenger jobs today, so there was probably a lot of gossip about – you know. Current events. I did take a set of pans from the smithy to the bakery and then some raisin buns back."

There had been a similar dry spell of messages after Marianne called off her wedding last year. Sunny's friendship with the princesses meant he was rarely asked to carry politically-charged messages, probably because the other elves and brownies were concerned he would forward it all to the royal family.

On the subject of dry spells …

"Tammy," one of the bakers, "was saying the herb patches haven't been getting as much rain as they need. She thinks we need another well. I said, 'isn't it a bit early in the season to be sure?', and she said, 'by the time we are sure, everything'll be dried up'."

"It is odd," Dawn agreed, batting the tip of some drooping grass out of her face. "Usually we've had at least one serious shower by now. Maybe a thunderstorm is building."

"I hope not." Sunny shivered. There had been an enormous thunderstorm near the end of last summer. Several villages were flooded. No one had died, but it took weeks to clear the mud and make repairs – valuable time taken from preparing for the harvest. "My parents are talking about having a new roof put on instead of patching the old one again. They were going to wait for summertime, but if it stays dry, they might do it sooner."

"I'll keep an ear out for pressure changes." The length and curl of a fairy's ear was sensitive to wind currents and air pressure, so they were often the first to know what weather was coming. A few older elves and brownies claimed similar sensitivity in their bones or joints. "Your Grammy used to predict rain with her knee, didn't she?"

"Yeah … I think it was dampness that set her off, though, since sometimes it just got really humid."

Sunny blinked when it suddenly grew brighter. He and Dawn lifted their hands to shade their eyes and looked at each other … and then to Lizzie, who had stopped walking and whom they had walked past without realizing.

"Something the matter, Lizzie?" Dawn put a comforting hand on the giant reptile's shoulder, letting the sun light up her face once more. Sunny took a moment to admire her glow before peering ahead.

A short ways ahead of them, only about twice Lizzie's length from snout to tail-tip, was a forsythia bush, densely flowered with its distinctive yellow four-pointed stars. Under and between the blooms were odd, faint flickers of pale blue light.

"… Plum?" he said softly.

"That's … right, that's where her workshop was … before."

It had been abandoned when Sugar Plum was imprisoned, except for young fays who would dare each other to come here, to take a yellow flower or step inside the building.

Dawn twitched her wings.

"Looks like she moved back in. Let's go say hi."

Her tone and expression was not nearly as cheery as it usually was when she said things like that. Sunny gulped.

Thimble and Larkspur lifted some of the low-hanging branches so Dawn wouldn't have to duck. Sunny wouldn't have needed to, himself, but they held the branches for him as well. Dawn squared her shoulders.

Lizzie actually skittered back from the bush a few steps. He could see her tail lashing. She either couldn't or wouldn't follow them, and wasn't happy about it.

"We'll come back, Liz," he promised her quietly.

Sugar Plum's workshop was built of wood and radiated around the stem (trunk?) of the bush. It had a tall enough roof and doorway for fairies to enter. It was nearly circular, and had filled the space under the forsythia before Plum had been imprisoned and the bush had been left to grow wild.

It was in better shape than Sunny would have expected, for sitting empty so long, but perhaps Sugar Plum had moved back in a few days ago and started repairing it already, or had left some kind of preservation spell on the place.

The doorway didn't actually have a door in it, just a pair of curtains. It was surprisingly wide. The largest goblins Sunny had seen in the forest might have been able to step inside.

Dawn entered boldly, like the royal she was. Sunny ducked in beside her, ready to jump in front if the Sugar Plum Fairy was home and not inclined to entertain visitors.

"My first customers!" Plum trilled, tumbling in the air. "It's so good to be back! What can I do for –? Oh, it's you." Her blue, glittering shoulders slumped for a moment and she pouted at them.

Larkspur folded her arms and made an indignant noise.

Sugar Plum pasted her smile back on. "How kind of you to come and check in on me, after we shared that _harrowing ordeal_ in the Dark Forest!"

Sunny could see almost the entire workshop from the door, except for a curtained off area he guessed might be Plum's private living space.

Between the randomly placed windows, the walls were lined with shelves, mostly full of dried plants and empty bottles, and a few haphazardly-placed boxes and books. A counter or table was built around the trunk in the middle of the room. On it were scissors and gardening tools, for harvesting ingredients, and cooking tools, for brewing potions, and a vase with some forsythia blooms in it.

"How are you settling in?" Dawn asked. One of her hands was clenched around her other wrist.

"Oh, it's a bit dusty, nothing unexpected, everything that didn't rot or dry up while I was away is right where I left it – but unfortunately, one of the dried up things is my customer base! It looks like I'm going to have to completely rebuild my client roster."

Plum pouted again, and made a sweeping gesture to a shelf where a few yellow-green bottles emitted the faintest glow.

"I've been working on garden fertilizers, always steady sellers; that's how I got my start. But nobody's come to shop even though I'm _sure_ everyone knows I'm free by now, so I might have to go into market to remind them that I'm here. And maybe trim a gateway into the forsythia again, like I had before, but after that _dreary_ dungeon with only my own glow for colour, I've really missed the rest of the spectrum, so I'm going to wait until the yellow flowers are done for the season."

Plum circled around them and put one hand on Sunny's shoulder and the other on Dawn's.

"And how are _you two_ setting in to your new relationship? I thought I saw something between you!"

"We're taking it slow," said Sunny quickly.

Plum turned into Dawn and booped his nose. "Just because love is _new_ doesn't mean it isn't _real_." She booped the real Dawn's nose in turn and changed back into herself. "Right, Princess?"

Dawn's smile definitely showed more teeth than usual. Her teeth barely parted when she spoke.

"Our relationship is progressing at the pace of our choosing. But there is a complication we ought to discuss with you."

Sunny looked at his feet. Did Dawn want to know Sugar Plum's perspective of what Sunny had said and done to convince Plum to make him the love potion he had tried to use on Dawn? It had actually been disturbingly easy … both for how quickly she acquiesced and for how pleased he'd been about it.

"The night we met you, a lizard got love-dusted and she's in love with both of us," said Dawn flatly. "The imp saved our lives by dusting her before she could eat us, but it's still not right to keep someone … emotionally _stuck_ like that. Is there _any other cure_ besides real love?"

"Sorry." Sugar Plum shrugged, not looking sorry at all. "The magic was set up to have just the one counterpoint, so it can't be undone by anything else. It's my most powerful working."

 _If you think making the potion's dangerous, wait till you_ use _it! Believe you me, there can be unforeseen consequences. Oh, I'm so good! It scares me so!_

"I see. Well, best of luck … rebuilding your client base. You should know before anyone else asks you to brew one that love potions have been banned in this kingdom as well as the Dark Forest."

"I suppose that's only to be expected," said Sugar Plum philosophically. "Don't you worry about me. The goblins probably destroyed all the primrose petals we'll get this spring, so I'll have a year to wean everyone off that idea."

"And the Royal Family is willing to fund research into finding an alternative antidote." Dawn winked. Her toothy grin became a cheeky one. "In case you want a new special project. I'm sure you'd outdo yourself."

"You flatter me, your highness. But I won't keep you. Go on, back to your date! Shoo-shoo!"

Dawn and Sunny let themselves be chivvied out the doorway.

"Toodles! Come back any time you want relationship advice!"

"So …" said Sunny, once Plum had gone back inside to wait for customers, "I … guess we've got Lizzie forever, then."

Dawn heaved a sigh. "Guess so."

Lizzie was excited to see them back. She nuzzled both of Sunny and Dawn, and used her massive head to herd them away from Plum's workshop.

"Do you think," Sunny asked Dawn quietly, "she understood about Plum being in there? And us wanting an antidote? And the potion's making her _not_ want an antidote?"

"Animals of all sorts tend to avoid that place," Thimble volunteered. "I think Plum set a barrier spell that makes them nervous. That sort of thing isn't sustainable over a large area like a village or even a farm, but around a single building it can work."

"And Marianne said," said Dawn, "that when she was dusted, if there'd been an antidote, she would've taken it if Bog was the one to ask her, to 'prove' her love was real." She gasped. Her eyes went wide. "I am so stupid!"

"No, you're not!" said Sunny, shocked. "What could even make you think that?"

"We could have used Marianne's _obsession_ with Bog to get her _away_ from him! Then Dad would have called back the army and no one would have gotten hurt!"

"… You lost me. How would that have worked?"

"'Oh, Marianne, this is so great, we should _go tell Dad_ you have a new boyfriend!'" Dawn stamped her foot. "But no, I had to try and _reason_ with her and just got her mad."

Sunny patted Dawn's arm.

"You know," he said slowly, "It's okay if you're still mad. At your dad or your sister or the goblins or Sugar Plum, or, well, me. It was a pretty wild night and it's only been a few days."

Dawn didn't say anything but she did look a little less tense. They walked in silence for a full minute.

"I feel like I forgave you too quickly," she admitted. "I know you weren't doing it to hurt me and I trust you not to do it again – and if you _do_ try something like that again, I _won't_ forgive you – and I don't feel mad at you anymore, but I do feel … almost, mad at myself? Like, does it make me weak that I _can_ forgive someone for trying to control me, and give you another chance?"

Sunny really wasn't the best person to answer that and figured Dawn knew that too, so he didn't answer.

"Trust can be misplaced," said Thimble, "but being able to trust isn't a sign of weakness, in and of itself."

"Mm."

"Do you, ah, want me to walk you home now?" Sunny asked.

"… Not yet. Let's go look at the daffodils."


	26. Bickering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to come up with some scenarios where the two kings interact on positive terms or they’re going to have a very strained relationship, which would in turn put strain on Marianne’s relationships both with her father and with Bog. Feel free to send suggested conversation topics for them. Yes, Roland’s sentence will be discussed again eventually.
> 
> In positive news, while trying to write this chapter, I wrote _lots_ of one-shot stories. Four of them have been posted already, two were written with the express purpose of being posted together on Valentine’s Day, and I’m saving the rest to scatter throughout the next time I get stuck and go months without having a new chapter.
> 
> Possibly I’ll gift one of those to my Secret Santa recipient, depending on what they request. I don’t know; is that considered ‘cheating’? If it were for you, would you resent getting a ‘hey guess what I already had a fic with the very idea you liked all set to go’ gift fic rather than a ‘hot off the press’ gift fic, or would you consider it serendipity?
> 
> I suppose if I have the patience for it, and can keep up with new chapters for this one, I can hold off publishing the rest of the stories until next Strange Magic Week to see if any of them fit those themes.
> 
> Fun game: try to spot the point where this chapter originally ended. It took on _a lot_ of additions.

The Bog King and Fairy King had been lecturing one another for thirty minutes now. Bog’s opening had been hardly diplomatic – “Why do you only allow fairy men to serve in your military?” – and he kept interrupting when Dagda tried to explain.

“Fairies are larger than other fays –”

“So I’d think there’d be places they wouldn’t _fit_ , interfering with their duties –”

“They won’t be outsized by anyone they’d need to arrest –”

“Numbers and skills can take down larger opponents if it comes to a fight –”

“And our flight allows patrols to cover a greater area –”

“But sprites fly too, and you have dragonflies –”

“They’re more easily spotted at a distance by a citizen in need –”

“Aye, but that’s the shiny armour, not the guards’ size –”

“All our armour is designed for fairy men –”

“But smaller armour would require less material per unit –”

“Fairies are the only ones to meet the educational requirements –”

“Haven’t you ever tried teaching the others –?”

“And even among fairies, it’s inappropriate for ladies to fight!”

“That one doesn’t even make any sense!”

It had all gone downhill from there, and now Bog was ranting that “You’re _courting rebellion_ , going on like this, having one group that your entire population associates with making arrests!”

“It’s not like that!” Dagda insisted. “Towns have their own magistrates and constabulary of citizen-operated patrols; it’s not as though the army intervenes in every petty theft!”

“What support and training do these citizens’ patrols get from the Crown, to ensure they know the law and aren’t enforcing arbitrary whims, and can protect themselves from violent criminals?”

“They can summon the army if the feel the threat is severe enough –”

“And who all’s allowed to join a citizens’ patrol?”

“Any man of age is free to volunteer –”

“Volunteer? As in they aren’t conscripted or as in they aren’t even _paid_? And this one’s ‘men only’ too?”

“The patrols receive a stipend for equipment, but no, not a salary. Of course they’re all men, I already told you, it’s inappropriate for women to fight! Maybe it’s different in that _Forest_ of yours where anyone might have to fight for their lives at any moment, but _my_ kingdom is _safe_!”

“How can a place be safe if ninety percent of the population aren’t _allowed_ to know how to defend themselves?”

“Where did you even get that percentage?”

“Four races, assume just below half the fairies identify as male. And for that matter, what are _male fairies_ allowed to do besides politics and military work?”

Marianne made an interested noise, reminding Dagda that this debate had been going on at her bedside. It was so unlike her to keep quiet during discussions like this.

Of course, he already knew her opinion on many of these issues …

“There are many trades for a fairy man to enter,” he answered Bog, “especially if he has a strong magical aptitude in some field.”

“Assuming he doesn’t stand to inherit a title, or have a family history of military involvement,” Marianne chimed in sweetly. “Then his interests have to stay ‘just a hobby’.”

Dagda internally groaned, foreseeing the conversation lasting at least another half hour with no satisfactory resolution on either side.

“I don’t see why you’re so invested in this,” he said to Bog. “It’s not as though you have that many women among _your_ Guard.”

“Of course I do. Not quite half, since not everyone identifies as male or female, but probably forty percent? Captain, you’d know this.”

“Not off the top of my head, Sire, but forty percent sounds roughly correct. Maybe forty-two.”

The Fairy King spluttered, and finally managed to say, “ _What_?!”

“And meanwhile, you say that your military is primarily structured around traditions that started because they seemed like a good idea at the time and that no one’s bothered to revise since?”

“Whereas, from what I’ve seen,” Dagda shot back, getting a second wind, “the Dark Forest’s military has barely any structure at all!”

“What, just because we don’t wrap ourselves in a differently coloured metal for each rank, you think we don’t have a hierarchy?”

“If untrained civilians from another country were able to slip past all your sentries and defenses multiple times, you clearly aren’t very organized.”

The Bog King’s honour guard flinched and looked about to say something, but didn’t.

“While of course the Fairy Kingdom’s patrols function as a tightly woven net, which is why we _weren’t_ able to catch you off-guard five nights ago and kidnap the Heir to the Throne right in front of everyone.”

“Bog!” Marianne interrupted, sounding scandalized.

“She put up a better fight than any of your knights when she wasn’t even trying to escape!” he continued.

“Bog, that is _enough_!” Marianne shouted. She lowered her voice, but her tone was just as firm when she said, “You, too, Dad. These are all important topics to discuss but if you’re just going to yell at each other then we aren’t going to reach any conclusions.”

Dagda had no intention of revising the Fairy Kingdom’s military structure no matter what the goblin king had to say, but he nodded in any case.

It was … nearly unprecedented, for Marianne to take the role of mediator, let alone volunteer for it. If nothing else, that was an encouraging sign that she was maturing into the great queen he had always hoped she would one day become, rather than the rash, brash, abrasive woman she had been for the past year.

Like the council structure she’d proposed, she would probably radically alter the guard format once she took the crown; Dagda wasn’t looking forward to that. He was much less willing to compromise on this issue.

Adding diversity to the Royal Council was one matter, to ensure the voices of all the Kingdom’s peoples were heard in court, and the fairy king could see the potential benefit of the revisions that were even now being set up.

But bringing the other fay races into the military? Marianne’s egalitarian views could make her popular with the masses, to be sure, but Dagda could not see this ending well. The physical differences were so extreme … there was a level of strength required of the guards that a brownie, elf, or sprite, or even most pixies, simply could not achieve.

“I take it your biggest concern is the size difference?” the Bog King said in a carefully level voice. That was unnerving, how he seemed to read Dagda’s conclusion, or so quickly reach it himself. “If you’re willing, I could ask volunteers from the Forest Guard to come and aid with training while you’re working out the new training program.”

“There are already volunteers to teach a civilian self-defence class,” said his honour guard. That goblin’s voice, deep and smooth, caught Dagda unprepared with how pleasant it was to the ear. The guard had not spoken much in his presence and kept startling him.

“That would be great,” said Marianne. “I don’t know how many students they’d have at first, but once the word got out I bet there’d be lots of takers. And people who already know how to protect themselves would be more likely to volunteer for patrols or sign up to join the Guard, right, Dad?”

“That sounds likely,” he reluctantly agreed.

Of course, once the ‘new recruits’ realized the demands of such positions, they would inevitably realize they were in over their heads and have to withdraw, Dagda reassured himself. Then things could go back to normal. Hopefully that would happen before some overeager volunteer got themselves badly hurt and had to be held up as an example of why some roles were best kept relegated to their traditional bearers.

And, if the fay were going to be dealing with goblins on a regular basis from now on, there was really no harm in more citizens knowing how to escape or fight off an attacker.

In fact, now that he and the Bog King were no longer shouting at one another, Dagda felt calm enough to admit that there could be advantages in knowing more about how the goblins fought.

Of course, this would also result in the goblins having greater knowledge of how the fay fought, but that was an acceptable risk. In brute strength, a goblin would almost always overpower a fay regardless of exact species. But if a fay could anticipate how the goblin would attack … well, when they were unrestrained, fays were usually faster, and if they could free themselves whenever they couldn’t avoid being caught in the first place …

The conversation had moved on without him, Dagda realized. Marianne and her handmaidens and Bog and the Bog King’s honour guard were discussing the drill schedules of the Fairy Kingdom and Dark Forest Guards, working out which mornings and evenings would be available for new exercises on the various training grounds scattered through each kingdom.

“Ordinarily, mixing diurnal and nocturnal schedules would be a strain, but guards should be used to waking up early and staying up late.”

“Speaking of that, Bog, when do we need to wrap this up so you can go and sleep?”

“Soon, but I think I have a while yet.”

“Whenever you do finish, Your Highness,” said Caroline, leaning out of her office – had she been listening, or just overheard all the shouting earlier, Dagda wondered – “that would be a good time to have a light lunch and resume your physical therapy. Bog King, Captain, if you plan on joining Princess Marianne and King Dagda in their meal, you should send a message to the kitchens now so they’ll know to include meat.”

“Will you?” Marianne gave the Bog King a large-eyed, sweet look that Dagda was more accustomed to seeing from his youngest daughter than his eldest, especially in the past year.

He could wish for better circumstances, and a less terrifying target for her affections, but it was nice to see Marianne happy about something again and no longer completely closed off to the idea of love.

“I … believe we will, yes,” said Bog. 

Dagda privately and sternly insisted to himself that it would be worth the discomfort of having to share a meal with goblins to see Marianne smiling so brightly.

He’d wanted her to be happy again, and now she was. Furthermore, he was the one who had told her that she would be a better queen if she had a king to share her burdens. And now, five days after meeting the goblin king, she was dedicating her time on bedrest to the political betterment of the Fairy Kingdom.

Marianne had always done her best to be active in Fairy Kingdom’s political landscape, well aware from an early age of the responsibilities awaiting her in adulthood. She had never before attempted anything on the scale of her current projects.

Dagda really wanted to take this as an encouraging sign, and not as a sign that she was still under the love potion’s influence and that the goblins were taking advantage of her and conspiring to undermine the Fairy Kingdom from within.

That rumour had recently been brought to his attention by a group of concerned members of court. He had done his best to ease their worries, but it was hard to silence the voice of suspicion in his own head after a lifetime of conditioning that goblins were to be feared and avoided.

Sugar Plum knew love potion magic better than anyone else in either land. If she said that Marianne was free of its power, then this had to be true.

Unless Plum had been lying and joined the conspiracy in exchange for her own freedom, one of the courtiers had pointed out. But Caroline had been called in for her opinion by that point and reminded everyone that, even without an antidote, love potion still left magical traces that could be scanned for, and Marianne had tested negatively for any magic other than her own. Since Marianne did not have plant magic, the primroses couldn’t be masked by her own magical readings, which had occasionally happened in past cases where love potions were used illegally.

Everything would be fine. Dagda would get through this meeting and this meal and … he and the Bog King would learn to get along. Eventually. Somehow. He was sure.

If only for Marianne’s sake. 


	27. Market

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this and Chapter 26 together, but wanted to save this update so I could post a new chapter for Christmas. I do not have Chapter 28 completed yet, but hopefully I will by next month! 
> 
> Thank you, 'DeltaShout', for being the 100th AO3 user to leave a signed kudos on this fic - and to everyone else who's left kudos, and who's tried to leave kudos only to be told they already have!

Marianne had asked Dawn if she could find an excuse to get some of the other goblins out and about in the Fairy Kingdom. She wanted to save Bog's tour for when Marianne could personally escort him, but she also wanted their citizens to get accustomed as quickly as possible to goblins peaceably walking the streets.

Dawn had decided to start with Griselda. Once you got over the initial startled impression of 'grey skin, clawed hands, too-long arms, too-large mouth, teeth, horns, _goblin_ ,' Griselda was almost completely unintimidating.

She must have been a force to be reckoned with at one time, to have raised a son like Bog and to have been former Queen of the Dark Forest, but Dawn's primary impression of Griselda was that she was affable and gregarious.

She was also around an elf's average height, so she wouldn't have to duck while visiting or shopping if things went well and she made friends in the elves' village … and wasn't quite as startling to see out of the corner of your eye, like Bog or his looming bodyguard.

Okay, so Dawn had multiple motives for selecting Griselda for the first attempt at this and some of those reasons were more callous and manipulative than others.

Such as knowing that making a good impression on his mother would likely also have a carryover effect of making a good impression on the Bog King.

And Griselda being compact enough that Dawn could probably fly her out of danger at least a short way if this _didn't_ go as well as she was hoping.

And how Griselda was still keen to get Marianne and Bog together, especially now that the love potion seemed to have worn off, making it only a matter of time until they stopped denying their attraction and _kissed already_ , so Griselda would have a vested interest of her own in wanting this to go well.

And how much more quickly Marianne and Bog's relationship might progress if they weren't worried that his mom might come in and interrupt them at any moment. (That one _might_ have been over-eagerness on Dawn's part. There would still be a chance of her and Marianne's dad interrupting, after all; along with the royal physician, and potentially literally anyone else in the castle, as long as Marianne was in the hospital wing.)

But Dawn also enjoyed Griselda's company and thought that Griselda would enjoy this experience.

Dawn knocked shyly on Griselda's door, aware she might be waking her up, and careful to tap softly so that Griselda could pretend, if awake and disinclined to company, that she simply hadn't heard.

"It's unlocked!" Griselda called from inside.

Dawn peeked in. Griselda was sitting in one of the fancy twig-woven chairs, just setting aside a book.

"This a social call? Or did my son finally manage to mortally offend someone, and you're here to tell me I have to either talk him out of it or watch the duel?"

Dawn had to laugh.

"Neither. You seemed really interested, when we were talking about plumbing? So I thought, if you wanted, we could go into town and I could introduce you to the Plumbers' Guild, since they'd know the most about what you'd have to do if you wanted to set up pipeworks in the Dark Forest. We don't need to do it _today_ , I didn't set up an official appointment with them or anything, but we would probably have to _during_ the day since most businesses shut down at night."

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest sprig of honeysuckle!" Griselda's wide face was perfect for wide smiles. "I've been wanting to get a better look around this place. Let me leave my son a note where I've gone, then I'll get Thang up to take notes on the meeting if we need any, and we can go."

Thang wasn't one of the goblins who wore clothes, but brownies didn't wear clothing either, unless they were doing some kind of fiddly work where fur could be hazardous, or messy work where protective clothing would be easier to clean than their own pelts, so the presence of a naked goblin wouldn't be as scandalous in the village as it was in the castle.

Dawn was in two minds about which goblins to start with when events moved on to formally presenting goblins to the Fairy Court. If they started by inviting goblins who _did_ wear clothes, then the courtiers might be more … willing … to adapt to goblins, before having to adapt to casual nudity as well. But, on the other hand, clothed goblins seemed to be a rarity, or at least a minority, and would not create an accurate representation of all the Dark Forest citizenry that the Fairy Court would eventually be expected to interact with. In that case, getting both shocks over with at once might be the better route?

Dawn would run those points by Marianne later and see what her sister thought, before asking Griselda which goblins the former queen thought would be willing to adapt to Fairy Court. From the admittedly little amount Dawn had seen of it, the Dark Forest Court didn't seem nearly as formal as the one to which she had been raised.

* * *

The walk to the guild hall was slightly overwhelming. Griselda had been out and about by day before, but almost always with a canopy of tree branches blocking most of the light. The Fairy Kingdom was as bright as noon in midwinter, and a thousand times more colourful.

It was crowded, too, once they got to town. The streets were full of elves and brownies going about their business. Despite being only a small village, it had an energy that reminded Griselda of some of the bigger cities in the forest.

"Are those bridges?" Thang pointed out rickety-looking connections between some of the taller buildings that ran over the streets. "It's almost like the capital, isn't it?"

Amber Hollow had a cluster of trees on one side connected by a weaving nest of bridges, so the goblins inside didn't have to go all the way to the ground and climb back up to travel between them. They were mostly government offices; not every piece of official business had been done in the castle.

There was also talk of building an indoor marketplace that way, to shield goods from inclement weather, but as far as Griselda knew that was still idle chatter.

There were shops in the bridged trees, which were mostly to sell food to busy goblins who didn't have time to leave their jobs for a meal. One clever, enterprising soul was also doing brisk business by selling blank paper and bottles of ink.

The marketplace here had a great many food stands as well; produce and baked goods and preserves.

There were bolts of cloth and sheaves of petals and leaves for clothing, piles of clothing already sewn, hats, and what Griselda eventually figured out were shoes.

Livestock, insects and rodents, were herded through the streets once in a while. This got Thang very excited the first time they had to move aside for such a group, because he mistook the procession for the start of a parade.

There was a shop filled with ceramic dishes and another shop beside it with metal pots and pans and utensils.

Merchants sold all manner of tools, some of which she could identify; others of which, to Griselda's untrained eyes, might as well have been abstract sculptures.

It was less bright inside the guild hall, though still crowded and still colourful, with shining metal pipes and tools displayed throughout.

There was some tension when they arrived. Griselda expected that. She'd seen the suspicious looks sent her and Thang's way the whole walk over, and noticed how, despite the crowds, no one had gotten close enough to bump into them. But Dawn's pointed presence and Royal Endorsement got the conversation going, and kept anyone from being openly rude.

"Hey, Thang, are you officially a scribe?" Dawn asked on the way back to the Fairy Castle.

"I had some scribe training mixed in with secretary training, but my official title is Royal Aide. Stuff and I have worked for the Bog King since he was the prince."

Thang proudly clutched his notes. Griselda, listening to them with half an ear, was glad Dawn had suggested meeting the Plumbers' Guild when she had. If the Dark Forest's next castle was going to have running water – so much more convenient than buckets! – it would apparently be a lot easier to put the pipes in while it was being built, rather than – what was the word that one elf had used – _retrofit_ the completed fortress.

An intoxicating smell wafted through the air and Griselda stopped walking. Was that –? She sniffed and turned. _Yes_. A butcher shop.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but a little snack wasn't going to spoil her breakfast that evening …

She patted the pocket of her dress and bit back a curse when she remembered that she wasn't carrying any money.

Probably for the best, she told her growling stomach as she hurried to catch up with Dawn and Thang. Who knew if a brownie- or elf-owned store would even take goblin currency? To some shopkeepers, gold was gold regardless of where it came from, but others could be so _picky_. And of course she couldn't expect a foreign shop, where they didn't know her, to sell her anything on credit.

Griselda made a mental note to lean on Bog and Marianne about settling an exchange rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who have also read my short story _Economic Differences_ might be confused by Griselda’s comment about goblin currency, since in that story, they don’t have money. To put it simply, _Economic Differences_ and _Taking the Feisty One_ are in different continuities, and in this story's timeline, goblins do use money.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs used in this story so far:  
>  _Mistreated_ , by Ritchie Blackmoore and David Coverdale  
>  _Sugar Pie Honey Bunch_ , by Lamont Dozier, Brian Holland and Edward Holland Junior  
>  _Trouble_ , by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller  
>  _Can't Help Falling In Love_ , by Luigi Creatore, Hugo Peretti, and George David Weiss  
>  _I've Got A Feeling_ , by Will Adams, Stacy Ferguson, Jaime Gomez, David Guetta, Allan Pineda, and Frederic Riesterer  
>  _Never Gonna Give You Up_ , by Rick Astley  
>  _Do I Love You Because You're Beautiful?_ , by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II  
>  _Fast As I Can_ , by Alan Doyle, Séan McCann, Darrell Power, and Bob Hallett  
>  _Just The Way You Are_ , by Billy Joel  
>  _Lavender Blue_ , English folk song, estimated 17th century origin  
>  _Gaston_ , by Howard Ashman and Alan Menkin


End file.
